


Tempest Rising

by my_odestiny



Series: Tempest Rising Series [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: AU, Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, Catching Fire AU, F/M, Quarter Quell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_odestiny/pseuds/my_odestiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta are going back to the Hunger Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/75228202743/tempest-rising-1) _     

     They didn’t sleep. They had shed their clothes and climbed into bed, but neither of them could bring themselves to close their eyes. So they stayed up in cycles of silent waiting and desperate loving, like the ebb and flow of the tide, until the first rays of sunlight appeared over the fluid horizon. 

     Finnick watched the pink crested waves encroach upon the sand just outside their window, and finally he spoke, “They’ll be here soon. I have to go.” He began to sit up, but Annie clutched him. 

     “Wait,” she choked on the word. If she could only hold onto him, if they could only wait a moment more, perhaps they would awake from some strange nightmare and find that their worst fears were not their reality after all.

     But Finnick knew that if they delayed any longer, there would only be more consequences. So he kissed her one last time. Annie coiled her arms around his neck, her fingers knotted in the back of his hair, and he ran his hands down the length of her back, memorizing her shape. Their lips lingered together for a moment longer until Finnick rested his forehead against hers and looked her in the eye. “Whatever happens today, I’m going to protect you.” 

     Annie gazed at him wearily. There was no point in trying to change his mind now—they’d fought about it at least a dozen times, until they were screaming, until Mags could hear them from across the street and came to intervene. But Finnick had already resolved to do everything in his power to keep her safe, no matter what the cost. “I love you,” she breathed, unable to conceive of anything else fitting for what might be her last words to him. 

     “I love you,” he echoed back with as much sincerity. Then, he pulled apart from her, slipped from her bed, and headed to his own home to prepare for the Reaping. 

     The camera crew arrived only minutes after he did. With a brief knock, they bustled through the door and took over. The outfit they dressed him in came from his stylist—some billowy, nautical get-up that she apparently didn’t feel the need to see in person. To finish off the look, the crew gelled his hair into waves and dusted his skin in shimmering gold. Then, the cameras followed him back out the door, from the Victor’s Village, and towards the stage erected in the square. He was one of only a few other District 4 Victors considered important enough to need a personal camera team—the others arrived escorted only by Peacekeepers. However, the nine of them were all positioned in the same roped off area where the hundreds of children usually stood. 

     Finnick stared straight ahead as Annie and Mags took their places just across the square. With the Capitol watching, he had to pretend they didn’t exist, pretend that his heart wasn’t pounding in his ears as District 4’s escort stepped up to the stage, made his speech, and started for the the women’s reaping bowl. Four slips of paper stuck to the bottom of the glass. The escort reached in, grabbed the first one that touched his fingers. _Not Annie, not Mags, not Annie, not Mags_ —Finnick couldn’t breathe as the escort stepped back to the microphone. _Not Annie, not Annie. Please, not Annie._

     “Annie Cresta!” 

     A sob burst from Annie’s lips. She staggered backwards and landed in the grip of two Peacekeepers. Mags started after her, looking as if she wanted to say something, but a second group of Peacekeepers held her back as the others dragged Annie to the stage. The stood on either side of her, black gloves locked around her arms as she stood before the crowd, shuddering, weeping. 

     Finnick swayed, dizzy, sick to his stomach. He felt the bile rising up his throat, his head felt numb. He hardly heard his own name being called. It didn’t matter anyways—as soon as he’d heard her name, he knew that he was going. When he didn’t respond, the nearest Peacekeeper gave him a nudge, and Finnick blinked from his daze. He hurried to the stage before anyone else had the chance to volunteer. And he smiled for the cameras, waved into the lens, tried to ignore the looks of disgust coming from the crowd before him. 

     Their escort stepped back so that Finnick and Annie could shake hands, but Annie couldn’t even look at him, and eventually the Peacekeepers pulled her into the Justice Building. Finnick followed close behind, and when the doors shut behind them, he called out her name. But the Peacekeepers were still pushing them forward, through the back of the building where a car was waiting to take them to the train station. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded as he tried to twist from their grasp. 

     “We’re under orders to take you straight to the train station,” the Peacekeeper by his left ear informed him. 

     Finnick couldn’t find the strength to protest any further. It’s not as if he was expecting any of his family to suddenly drop into what little was left of his life and show him sympathy. But he had hoped to say goodbye to Mags. Still, he let the current of Peacekeepers carry him out to the car and tried to suppress the thought that he would probably never see her again. 

     The car ride took only minutes, with Peacekeepers flanking them on either side of their seats. The only sounds were that of Annie’s strangled whimpers, and the occasional shift of a Peacekeeper’s armor. They arrived at the station to find that the train was already waiting, the nearest set of doors gaped open, eager to swallow them. The Peacekeepers pushed them inside and the door closed between them. Then they turned away and headed off the station platform. They no longer needed to guard the Tributes—all exterior doors were automatically locked, and they wouldn’t reopen until they arrived in the Capitol. There was no way off the train. 

     In the absence of cameras and spectators and Peacekeepers, Finnick rushed towards his love, “Annie. Annie!” He tried to catch her as she collapsed to her knees, sobbing anew. “Annie, listen to me,” he pleaded. “I’m going to get you out of there. I’m not going to let you die.” He tried to reach out and hold her as the promises tumbled off of his tongue one after the other. But she pushed him away, his words, his hands. Every attempt to comfort her only brought her more distress, for she knew that every promise he swore to her was another nail hammered into his coffin. 

     Finnick sat helplessly and watched her suffer. Then, the door connecting their car from the next opened, and he saw Mags hurrying to their side. “Mags?” He stared at her for a moment, and then it occurred to him—they might be Victors, but they still needed a Mentor, someone to stay in the Capitol and pull for sponsors, to instill hope in the betting pools. He wasn’t sure how effective she’d be at it now, but he was nonetheless relieved to see her. Kneeling, she gathered Annie into her arms and rocked her. She looked to Finnick, and tears immediately sprung to his own eyes. He could smile for he camera, he could act brave for Annie, but in front of Mags, his masks only crumbled. He was distraught, scared. He didn’t want to die. His head came to rest on Mags’ other shoulder, and she held them both, her own tears slipping down her cheeks. The train began to move, and they sat together in a quivering knot, slick with tears. 

     Gradually, Annie found it harder and harder to breathe, until her sobs escalated into panic. When Mags could no longer calm her, she rummaged through the bag she’d left on the floor until she produced a small pill bottle. Tranquium. At times, it was the only thing that could calm Annie down. At the hospitals, they injected the stuff straight into her arm. She’d be out for days, and when she awoke, her mind would be so scrambled that she could barely string a sentence together. Annie had come to hate the stuff—the doctors had used it to keep her quiet and out of their concern, but she knew that the pills, much smaller, gentler doses, could help her breathe again, could help her sleep. So she held out a trembling hand for Mags’ bottle. Finnick jumped up and retrieved a glass of water for her. She sipped at it before she swallowed the pills, and after. Mags continued to rock her until her breathing returned to normal and her head began to sink down into her chest. 

     “Do you want to sleep?” Finnick asked her quietly, and she nodded dazedly. He picked her up and carried her to the car designated for the female Tribute. He laid her down on the bed and draped a blanket over the mermaid-themed gown she’d been wrapped in for the reaping. By the time he had finished tucking her in, she was already out, tears still dampening her eyelashes as she slept. 

     Finnick returned to the other car to find Mags still sitting on the floor staring despondently at the wall. He helped her to her feet. “We should see who we’re up against,” his voice cracked over the words, but he didn’t care. He dropped onto the nearby couch and turned on the TV to view the other District reapings. Over and over, they watched a parade of familiar faces reluctantly take their respective stage—the brother and sister Victors from one, two of the most popular Victors from two, the geniuses from three, Johanna Mason from seven, the closest thing Finnick had to a friend, all the way down to the new kids from twelve. They’d only just won their Games the year before, the first two people to walk out of one arena in the history of the Games. But now they were being sent back in to finish the job, because if anything was for certain, it was that only one Tribute was going to be alive by the end of this Quell. By the end of the entire broadcast, he had only reached one other conclusion: “There’s no way this wasn’t fixed.” 

     Finnick stayed up for hours to watch experts and gamblers and citizens on the Capitol streets speculate who had the best chance of winning. People were ranking him high on the list of most likely winners; at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that his death was going to piss off a lot of people when they lost the money they’d bet on him. It was long after midnight by the time he finally cut off the TV and returned to Annie’s room. He crawled into bed beside her and put his arms around her gingerly, sure that, with the help of the drugs, he wouldn’t wake her. But just as he began to close his eyes, she spoke up, her voice hoarse and forlorn, “We should just kill ourselves…” 

     Finnick ran the thought through his exhausted brain before shaking his head against her hair, “They’d kill our families.” 

     “We’d be dead,” she told him. “It wouldn’t matter to us anymore.” 

     “What about Mags?”

     Annie fell silent. There wasn’t a sliver of relief in the world that was worth risking harm to Mags. She thought for another moment before speaking again, “What if we knew Mags would be safe?”

     Finnick sighed, “Then I wouldn’t want to feel it. We could take all of those tranquium pills. Then we’d just fall asleep, and we wouldn’t wake up.” 

     “Did Mags leave the bottle out?” Annie asked him. 

     “She took it with her.” 

     “She knows us too well…” 

     Finnick pressed his lips to the back of Annie’s hair. “Go back to sleep. You need to rest.” 

     Annie’s eyes fluttered shut, and she slept again. Finnick, however, couldn’t bring himself to it, and eventually he gave up trying. Instead, he watched the shadows of trees outside rush past the window, watched the stars fade as they neared the city. And finally, he watched the train pass under the Capitol’s welcome arch illuminated against the night sky, glittering and glamorous like the gates of Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

_[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/75951144920/tempest-rising-2) _

     Scissors, tweezers, hot wax, dyes—the real grooming began once they arrived in the Capitol. Finnick and Annie were ushered into separate rooms where their styling teams awaited. Finnick’s team embraced him eagerly, chattering all at once:

     “We couldn’t have had a better Victor if we’d picked you ourselves!”

     “Can you imagine having to work with some of those other Tributes—they’re ancient!” 

     “No amount of makeup is going to hide those ghastly wrinkles.” 

     “Or those horrible, flabby bodies.” 

     “None of them are even going to come close to our Finnick!” 

     Finnick forced a smile and muttered his thank-you’s as they stripped his clothes away and hosed him down until every last grain of salt and sand from the beaches of 4 had been purged from his skin. As his body dried, they trimmed his hair, and he was just getting up from the barber’s chair as his head stylist arrived. 

     “Finally!” she exclaimed as she kissed him on either cheek. She ran her fingers through his new haircut before she took up his hands and looked him in the eye with the most serious expression. “After all those years of drab suits and formal get-ups, I can finally put you in something truly sexy.” 

     “Looking forward to it,” Finnick lied, and she shot him a mischievous look before she reached out and ripped his towel from his waist. She scanned him up and down and let out a contented sigh, “You look better than ever.” She glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the rest of the team, “Make sure you wax _everything_. And I want that golden shimmer from head to toe.” She flipped the towel over her shoulder as she smiled at Finnick, “You’ll have to wait until tonight to see your costume. It’s a surprise.” 

     “Can’t wait,” he told her, and she sauntered off, towel in hand. 

     The team spent the next several hours making sure every inch of him was perfectly manicured. They were more thorough than ever, and Finnick began to wonder if this exquisite grooming was more than just for show. How many people would pay through the nose to have one last fling with Finnick Odair? He tried to push the thought from his mind as he stood there, lay here, took this, whatever his prep team instructed him to do. They had just finished massaging a fine, gold dye into his skin when one by one they skittered away, leaving him alone and naked in the middle of the room. Finnick waited for them to burst back through the door with whatever they’d gone to fetch, but as the seconds passed he realized they weren’t going to return. He looked around, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Save for his costume, he was camera-ready, and the Tribute Parade wouldn’t begin until that afternoon. What now?

     Finally, the door opened, and President Snow walked into the room. “Mr. Odair,” he greeted him cooly. “Congratulations on representing your District.” 

     “An honor, sir,” Finnick said tightly. He straightened and stood feet planted apart as if his nakedness didn’t bother him. He knew that there was nothing in the room with which he could cover himself, and that Snow had probably planned it that way—one of his humiliation tactics he used to intimidate the Victors. So he stared ahead, stone-faced as he asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

     Snow only smiled at the sarcasm in his tone. “I’m to congratulate all the Tributes today at the Parade,” he said as he continued into the room, hands clasped behind his back. “But I wanted to speak to you in particular.” 

     “What for?” Finnick asked. His heartbeat quickened. This was it—Snow was going to give him some outrageous list of clients to entertain in the last few days of his life. 

     But Snow had an entirely different subject in mind. “As the President, I am not allowed to publicly express my personal favor for any given Tribute,” he said. “However, I would like to let you know within the privacy of this conversation, that if I could select a winner from this year’s Hunger Games, it would be you, Mr. Odair.” 

     Finnick stared at him, unable to discern the President’s motives for such a declaration. “Why?” 

     “Because,” the President began to circle him. “You, more than anyone else I have seen in my tenure, have embodied the ideals and the spirit of a true Victor. You are the Victor that the founders envisioned when they created the Games. A young man plucked from poverty, who earns his victory with skill and valor, who embraces his wealth and his fame with charisma and charm. Never have I seen my citizens so enamored with a District celebrity before. Except perhaps now for Miss Everdeen.” He spoke the last sentence with some measure of disdain, but continued. “The people are routing for you, Mr. Odair.” 

     “They’re going to be disappointed then,” Finnick told him. Of course he was going to fight, to kill, to put on as much of a show as it would take to earn sponsors. But no matter what, he was going to protect Annie, and when it came down to the two of them, he was going to fall on his trident, and Annie Cresta was going to walk out of the arena alive.

     The President nodded at his statement, “I understand you’re concerned for the wellbeing of Miss Cresta. I came to speak to you about that as well.” 

     “I’m not going to let her die,” he swore, prompting the President to let out a laugh, 

     “You act as if the Games are entirely within the players’ control. I thought by now you’d no better than that.” 

     Finnick clenched his fists. Of course he knew. At some level, all of Panem knew that the Gamemakers ultimately guided the direction of the Tributes, of the battles, the deaths. A broken, uninspiring Victor like Annie was generally considered a fluke in the system, and often the Head Gamemaker was fired in consequence. Tributes like here were meant to be picked off early, and now they had a second chance to do so. 

     “If you kill her…” Finnick started, but the President shook his head. 

     “Believe me, I want the Games to transpire as naturally as possible. But at the end of the day, we must create a product of entertainment: a story. That’s why we get to know the Tributes, allow them to form alliances. We want to create an interesting story. And to be an interesting story, it has to be believable, and in this case, it has to be compatible with the story people already know.” 

     “What are you saying?” Finnick muttered. 

     “I’m saying that we already have one pair of star-crossed lovers going into this Quell,” Snow told him. “And to add a second couple to the same Games would be pushing at the limits of believability.” 

     “Those two from 12 aren’t really in love,” Finnick spouted. “No one believes it.” 

     “No one in the Districts, perhaps,” Snow admitted. “But here in the Capitol, they can’t get enough of it. And I will not have their own love story overshadowed by a second, less appealing romance.” Snow looked pointedly at Finnick. He was right: the Capitol never liked Annie, so for her to suddenly be paired with Panem’s most eligible bachelor would be an outrage. 

     “So you’re saying I still can’t be in love with Annie,” he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. “Even when we’re dying.” 

     “Indeed,” Snow nodded. “And if a second romance does arise in the arena, characters may have to be cut to preserve the integrity of the narrative. Have I made myself clear?” 

     “Yes, sir,” Finnick spoke through his teeth.” 

     “Very good, then.” Snow smiled. From the folds of his jacket, he produced a white rose. “Give this to Miss Cresta, will you?”

     Finnick only glared at him, so Snow set the flower down on a nearby cosmetics tray. “I look forward to seeing your costume at the Tribute Parade,” he said as he headed for the door. “I hear your stylist is quite excited about it.” With that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Finnick alone to process all that he’d just been told. 

     Eventually, his prep team returned, apparently unaware of what had occurred. They prattled on about how they’d suddenly been given an early lunch break and had dashed off, forgetting him completely. But they offered him a plush robe to wear, and with a few finishing touches of makeup, they were done with him. With hours still remaining until the Parade, the District 4 escort appeared to collect him. “The other Districts are still arriving,” he said as he clicked away at his phone. “There’s a shuttle that can take us to the Training Center to unwind for a while. I can’t stand the smell of this place—it’s like burnt plastic.” 

     Finnick followed him down the hall where Annie sat waiting. She stood, clad in her own robe, with thick silver curlers twisted in her hair. “What took you so long?” she asked him. 

     He shook his head, “You don’t want to know.” 

     They fell in step behind their escort, out the back of the building where they boarded a shuttle that carried them to the Training Center. When they arrived, Finnick and Annie stepped out and waited for their escort to follow. 

     But he only smiled, “I’v got some PR to do, build up the hype for tonight.” He shook his phone at them, “You know where to call me.” He closed the hatch and the shuttle raced away, leaving the two Tributes on the curb in their robes. 

     Finnick watched the shuttle disappear, then turned to the Center. “Let’s go.” Peacekeepers escorted them through the lobby and into the elevator, but when the doors shut behind them, they were finally alone. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and stared at the door as he asked, “Did President Snow come to see you?” 

     “No,” Annie looked at him, alarmed. “Why?”

     “He talked to me,” Finnick muttered. 

     “What did he say?” 

     “…That he still doesn’t want anyone to find out about us, not even in the Games.” 

     “That’s ridiculous,” Annie scoffed. “That’s not fair.” 

     “I know, but…” He took a deep breath, “He said that if we didn’t do what he said, he’d make sure we ended up dead.” 

     Annie leaned back against the elevator despondantly. “But how are we supposed to…?” 

     “I’ll still going to protect you,” he promised her. “We’re still going to be allies. We just can’t be in love.” 

     Annie huffed in frustration, but Finnick was too exhausted to dwell on it. He hadn’t slept in two days, and he hoped to get as much sleep as he could between now and the Tribute Parade. Which is why when the elevator door opened onto the fourth flour, he was surprised to see Plutarch Heavensbee sitting at the dining room table. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

    _[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/76741253503/tempest-rising-3)_

     Annie had never seen the man before, but Finnick reacted immediately, “What are you doing here?” 

     “I was just speaking to your Mentor about that,” the man nodded to Mags, who sat across from him with a pensive expression. 

     “President Snow already talked to me,” Finnick started into the room. 

     “I’m not here on behalf of the President,” he told him. 

     “Then why?” 

     Annie couldn’t help but interject, “Wait, who is this?” 

     The man smiled, standing, “Plutarch Heavensbee.” He shook her hand, “Head Gamemaker.” 

     Annie felt the blood drain from her face. This man who now looked her in the eye and smiled so warmly was the very same man who’d designed the great maze in which she would be consumed. She pulled her hand from his grip and backed away, as if his touch had burned. 

     “What do you want?” Finnick asked again, irritation dripping from his voice. 

     “I came to offer you a proposal,” he said. 

     “Not interested.” 

     “I think you will be,” Heavensbee eyed each of them in turn. “Because it comes with a chance of you both walking out of the arena alive.” 

     Annie looked to Finnick, then Mags. Finnick kept his gaze locked on their guest, while Mags stared down at the table. 

     “There are cameras here,” Finnick muttered suspiciously. 

     “Strange shortage in the security system,” Heavensbee smiled. “I’ve come to investigate before the other Tributes arrive.” A solid alibi, if he was telling the truth. 

     Finnick looked to Mags, and she nodded. “Alright,” he let out an agitated sigh, “let’s hear it.” 

     The smug, calculated smile disappeared from the Gamemaker’s face. “A revolution is brewing in the Districts,” he told them. “I’m not talking about civil unrest, I’m talking a complete government overhaul.” 

     “That’s impossible,” Finnick spouted back.

     But Heavensbee placed a tablet on the table that began to play an endless feed of riots from across the Districts—mobs charging against the Peacekeepers, setting fires to their justice buildings, taking back their exports. Annie sank into the chair next to Mags as she watched, hand over her mouth in awe. 

     Finnick watched the footage with a grim expression. “Even if the people are rioting, none of the Districts have enough resources or political prowess to actually take out the Capitol.” 

     “Maybe not the first twelve.” Heavensbee tapped the screen, and the feed changed to a sleek, pristine council room, nothing like the Capitol’s government buildings. “But District 13 is more than capable.” 

     “District 13 doesn’t exist,” Finnick told him. Everyone knew that, they’d been taught it since grade school. It as the last District that had tried to rebel, and the Capitol had leveled them.

     But the Gamemaker looked at them, “It does.”  Every time he tapped the screen, a new part of the phantom District appeared—administration facilities, a fully equipped media lab, warehouses upon warehouses of weaponry—a fully-functioning community filled with citizens. 

     “How does the Capitol not know?” Annie asked as she watched the screen, mesmerized. 

     “They know about 13,” he said. “They don’t know that 13 is planning to lead the Districts into another rebellion.” 

     “How do we know any of this is real?” Finnick watched the man’s face, still guarded. 

     Heavensbee only smiled, “If you agree to this plan, you can see it for yourself.” 

     Finnick and Annie looked at each other, then back to the Head Gamemaker. 

     “What’s the plan?” Annie asked quietly. 

     He took his tablet and pulled up an image of last year’s Victor. Well, one of them. Katniss Everdeen had caused an uproar at the Capitol when she managed to get her and her fellow teammate out of the arena, and now, they were both back as a Tributes for the Quarter Quell, surely not a coincidence. 

     “Katniss Everdeen’s actions in the Games have ignited this revolution,” Heavensbee explained. “She’s become a symbol of hope, of resistance for the people, and if we’re going to unite the Districts, we need her to survive this Quell.” 

     “So you’re asking us to die for her?” Finnick glared at him.

     “I’m asking you to help me keep her alive,” he corrected. “I’ve built an escape route into the arena. If you can preserve Everdeen until you find it, then my team can collect whoever else is with her and offer them sanctuary in District 13.” 

     “What about Mags?” Annie asked.

     Heavensbee nodded, “We’ll arrange safe transport for her once you near the escape.” 

     Finnick crossed his arms, “And if we fail?” 

     “Then you don’t have any better chance of surviving as it is.” 

     Finnick shook his head, “That’s not true. I know I can get Annie out of that arena.” 

     Heavensbee raised an eyebrow, “Do you? This won’t be an ordinary Hunger Games, Finnick. President Snow is determined to eliminate all of you as quickly as possible.” 

     “There has to be a winner,” he argued. 

     The Gamemaker nodded at Annie, “I can guarantee you, it’s not going to be her.” 

     Annie dropped her gaze, and Mags squeezed her hand. Of course she wasn’t going to make it. No matter how many promises Finnick made her, there was no way he could truly keep her alive, not when she was so defenseless. “…We should do it, Finnick.” 

     Finnick turned to her in surprise, “What?” 

     She looked at him, “We should do it. We should help Katniss get out of the arena.” 

     “Annie-” he started, but she continued, 

     “This is about more than just us now. Think of all the other people we could be helping.” 

     “By keeping one bratty teenager alive?” Finnick looked back at Heavensbee, “She’s not even really in love with that other kid!” 

     After last years Games, Finnick had gone on and on about how fake he thought Katniss was, how she was just a fad that would blow over as soon as everyone in the Capitol got tired of her act. Something about her had touched a nerve with him, and now he was being asked to protect her at Annie’s expense. 

     “You don’t have to like her,” Heavensbee told him. “You just have to make sure she doesn’t die.” 

     “But why Katniss Everdeen?” Finnick pressed. “Why can’t it be any other Victor?” 

     “She’s who the people have chosen,” Heavensbee stated. “I know she’s not perfect, but she’s what we’ve got. Now are you in or not?” 

     Slowly, Finnick began to shake his head, “I can’t do this.” 

     “Finnick,” Annie could see the doubt locked in his jaw. She looked back at Heavensbee, “I think we need to talk about it before we can decide.” 

     “We don’t have the time for that,” he told her. “I need your answer now.” 

     Mags stood then, and walked over to Finnick. She pulled him aside, and he muttered to her frantically beneath his breath. Annie could see his fists quivering from across the room. She stared at the glossy table. 

     “Do you really think this is going to work?” she asked the Gamemaker. 

     “I think the people have had enough,” he said as he gazed at the images on his screen. “I think you and the other Victors feel the same. But the people are ready to fight, to sacrifice…” He waited until she looked him in the eye before he asked, “Are you?”

     Finnick returned to the table before she could answer. He sat across from her, his knees brushing hers. Tears hid in the back of his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked her.

     Slowly, Annie nodded. 

     “Because I don’t know if I can protect you both.” 

     “I know,” she whispered. 

     Finnick stared at the ground for a moment, before he finally swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke, “We’ll do it.” 

     “You’re making the right decision,” Plutarch told him, but Finnick wasn’t interested in his commendation. 

     “Who else is in?” he asked. 

     Plutarch sat back in his chair and powered down his tablet, “So far I’ve talked o 3 and 7. Johanna Mason recommended you.” 

     Johanna. Annie had only met her a few times before, but she knew that Finnick spent a lot of time with her whenever he was in the Capitol. He said Johanna was one of the few people he felt like he could confide in. 

     Finnick nodded wearily, “Who else are you going to talk to?” 

     “Who else can we trust?” Heavensbee looked at him. 

     He sighed, “Not 1 or 2. I’m not really the best person to ask. Have you talked to the mentor from 12?” 

     “Not yet.” 

     “He should know. He’s had drinks with just about everybody.” 

     “Very well then,” Plutarch stood. “I’ll update you as often as I can. Needless to say, this is extremely confidential.” He looked to Finnick one last time, “And whatever Snow told you before…act like you’re on his side.” With that, he headed for the elevator, “I’ll see you all at the Parade.” He stepped in, and the doors shut behind him, and then he was gone, a vacuum of silence in his wake.

     Finnick’s head sank into his hands, his elbows dug into his knees. He knotted his fingers into his hair until his knuckles turned white.  Annie reached out and placed her hands on his fists until they relaxed. He looked up at her, “We have a chance to be together. If we make it to 13, no one’s going to bother us ever again. We wouldn’t have to be in hiding anymore.” For the first time since the reaping, she saw hope in his eyes. 

     Annie managed a smile. She knew there still wasn’t any hope for her. But perhaps if this plan could inspire him to live, she could die knowing that he had a chance to go on. “Why don’t you get some rest?” 

     He nodded, “Join me?” 

     “In a minute.” 

     Finnick watched her for a moment more before he stood and wandered to his bedroom. She waited until he shut the door before she turned to Mags. 

     “Do you think he’ll still follow the plan after I’m gone?” she asked quietly.

     Mags quickly began to shake her head at Annie’s suggestion. She shouldn’t think like that, as if she was certainly going to die. 

     Annie sighed, “Mags, please. I can’t pretend around both of you.” 

     Mags looked at her, the pain of helplessness glinting in her eyes. She pressed her hand to Annie’s heart—no matter what Finnick or President Snow or Plutarch Heavensbee said, Annie was the only one who could keep herself alive, and that would never happen if she’d already lost the will. 

     Her own tears began to bubble forth, “I don’t want to die, Mags. But I don’t want to kid myself either. I’m only going to slow things down, make it harder to save Katniss. I don’t want the whole revolution to collapse because of me.” 

     But Mags continued to shake her head. 

     Annie continued in exasperation, “I can’t fight, I barely know any survival skills, I’m probably going to panic as soon as the Games start. How am I even going to contribute?” 

     Gravely, Mags nodded toward Finnick’s door. They both knew that beneath his brave face, his nonchalant Capitol persona, this Quell threatened to break him completely. The agony of having to return to the arena, the terror of losing Annie, and now the added burden of guardian to the fate of the entire revolution—he couldn’t bear it on his own. He needed Annie, her comfort, her calm, rational presence, to keep him together. And if she gave up so easily, if she died so soon, he might not be able to preserve himself, let alone Katniss Everdeen. 

     Annie stared down at her delicate, breakable hands, “…I’ll try.” 

     Mags leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her brow. Annie managed another smile before retreating into Finnick’s room. The lights were dimmed, the shades closed, and he was already passed out on the bed. She felt her own lack of sleep pulling at her limbs. Annie crawled onto the mattress beside him and nestled her cheek against his arm, careful to keep her head of sharp, cold curlers away from his skin. As she grew still, she realized that the sound of ocean waves filtered quietly through the room; Finnick must have done that. She closed her eyes and pretended that she was home, that when she woke up, she and Finnick would go walking along the beach, take a swim in their cove, and go on living without fear of death or rebellion or the Hunger Games. It was the only way she could coax herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta are going back to the Hunger Games. They’ve reluctantly agreed to help Plutarch Heavensbee in his mission to rescue Katniss Everdeen from the arena, but the two of them may fall apart before the Games even begin.

_[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/77670738707/tempest-rising-4) _

     Annie felt as though she’d only just closed her eyes when Mags shook her awake. The City Circle burned golden in the thick afternoon sun, an ideal landscape for the presentation of Panem’s mightiest warriors. Clad in disheveled robes and loose curlers, Finnick and Annie pulled themselves from bed and shuffled into the elevator with Mags, where their escort awaited them on the ground floor. 

     “You won’t believe the press you’re getting!” he gushed at Finnick. “Everyone wants to snag an interview with you, we’re just waiting to see if you’re allowed. But if we can, you’re already booked!” He didn’t once look at Annie as he whisked them onto the shuttle that took them back to the Prep Center. 

     When they arrived, her styling team led her back down the hallway to the room where they’d groomed her before. They pulled the curlers from her hair and shaped them into perfect ringlets. They painted starfish into the corners of her eyes and stained her lips coral. Finally, her head stylist arrived, one of the District 4 regulars, looking less than pleased to see her. 

     “Put this on,” he grumbled as he tossed a flimsy, sea green gown her way. Annie quietly slipped her robe from her shoulders and wrapped the dress around herself, tying it closed with a length of golden rope. She glanced at her costume in the mirror while her stylist stared her up and down. She was identical to practically every other District 4 tribute there’d been since she could remember. 

     Her stylist didn’t seem satisfied either. “Darken the eyes, put on another layer of lips, and get rid of these cheap extensions.” He jerked a handful of her hair, and Annie’s head followed after with a yelp of pain.

     “They’re not extensions!” she told him as her hand flew to her scalp. 

     His eyes widened as he ran his fingers through the curls, “All this is real?” 

     She nodded, “I’ve never cut it.” 

     “Well you will now,” he informed her before looking to his assistants. “Take it up to the ears.” 

     “N-no!” Annie clutched at her curls. 

     “You’re too small,” her stylist explained impatiently. “It overwhelms you. Besides, the mermaid look is so passé.”

     “I’m not cutting it,” she insisted. 

     He looked her in the eye,“That’s not up to you.”

     Annie started backwards, prepared to put up a fight. What did she have to lose? 

     One of the assistants stepped forward, “I can pin it up above her ears without cutting it.” 

     Annie’s stylist looked between her and Annie for a moment. “Show me,” he finally said. 

     With dozens upon dozens of pins, the assistant secured each curl to Annie’s scalp, and by the time she was finished, her hair was a crown of bubbling rings strung with pearls and bits of shell. 

     Her stylist looked her over once more and sighed, “Well it’s too late to change it now. Polish her off and send her out.” 

     Annie looked to the assistant. “Thank you,” she murmured, but the assistant payed her no mind. She was more focused on her boss’s reaction to her quick-thinking fix. Annie dropped her gaze and allowed them to dust a pearly glow onto her skin before they sent her to the chariots. 

     Tributes, Mentors, stylists, Avoxes, crew members, horses—all milled about the stuffy, underground space in a tangle. Ordinarily, the District zones were sectioned off, and the young Tributes were too scared to venture from their assigned posts. But these Victors all knew the routine, and they all knew each other. The District 8 Mentor let out a laugh at something spoken by the Tributes from 10. A Tribute from 1 flirted in vain with the Tributes from 2. The District 12 Mentor slipped a flask of alcohol to the Tributes from 6. Annie wove between them all as discreetly as possible, and finally she found Mags waiting alone by the District 4 chariot. 

     “Where’s Finnick?” she asked as she approached. 

     Mags gestured to some far corner of the room, and Annie nodded. She took a deep breath as her heart began to race. The costumes, the horses, the camera crew, it was all too familiar. Shadows flitted through the crowd, faces long since gone except from Annie’s mind. She stared them down, willed them to leave her, but they stared right back at her, waiting. 

     With a touch to her arm, Mags pulled her back to reality. The shadows began to fade from the corners of her vision, and she blinked the last of them away as she looked to her Mentor. 

     “Thank you,” she breathed, and Mags gave her hand a squeeze as she smiled.

     It was then that Finnick strolled towards them, naked save for a gold knot that hung between his legs. 

     Annie gaped at him, “They’re not going to send you out in that?” 

     He only shrugged, “It’s fine.” 

     “No, it’s not!” she protested. “That’s barely even costume. They can’t treat you like this, you’re not-”

     Finnick held up a hand to her, “Annie, Annie, please. Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse.” 

     Annie crossed her arms she placed herself protectively in front of him. “They won’t even let us die with dignity,” she muttered through her teeth. 

     “Can we change the subject?” he sighed. 

     Reluctantly, Annie loosened her shoulders. She glanced back in the direction he’d come, “Who were you talking to?” 

     “Katniss Everdeen,” his nose wrinkled in disgust. 

     Annie looked at him, “And?” 

     “She’s so arrogant,” he scowled. “I don’t know why anyone likes her.” The handful of sugar cubes he’d carried with him crumbled in his fist as he spoke. 

     “We don’t have to like her,” Annie reminded him. “We just have to be her ally.” 

     Finnick rolled his eyes, and Mags tapped him on the arm. She shot him a warning look, then ushered him toward their chariot. The Tributes were being instructed to mount up. They could hear the music reverberate through the walls around them, and the crowd outside began to cheer in anticipation. Annie took her place alongside Finnick. Only the gold cord around her waist connected her costume to his. She gathered up the train of her flowing skirt and flung it towards him. The material was so light that as soon as the wind picked up, the fabric would blanket him, at least from the waist down. 

     Finnick smiled despite himself. “Don’t be a party pooper,” he told her in his slippery Capitol voice as he stepped around the fabric. 

     “You shouldn’t have to do this,” she muttered. “It’s public humiliation.” Perhaps the Capitols would see his costume as nothing more than a teasing ensemble, but Annie could only imagine what kind of satisfaction it would bring President Snow to see his defiant Victor reduced to such a state before the entire country. 

     Finnick gazed at the wheels of a distant chariot in an odd calm. It was a long moment before he murmured back, “…We need sponsors.” 

     Annie looked at him in alarm. “Finnick-” she started. But the doors to the City Circle began to open, flooding them with sun and sound. Trumpets blared, and the crowd screamed as the first chariots trotted towards them. Annie gripped the handles just beneath the lip of their chariot, and with a jerk they started forward. 

     The roar of the crowd swelled as they emerged into the sunlight. Men howled and women squealed as Finnick began to wave at them, a brilliant grin plastered across his face. Annie could see themselves in the screens that lined the Circle—from a distance, Finnick looked completely naked, and the crowd was loving every inch of it.

     Annie felt sick. The noise was overwhelming. More than anything, she wanted to curl up at the bottom of the chariot and cover her ears. But she couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but watch the hundreds of leering, distorted faces that screamed, pushed, craned their necks for a glimpse of Finnick’s exposed skin. They devoured him with their eyes, and she knew all too well what they’d do if they managed to get their hands on him before the Games. 

     Finnick leaned behind her and waved to the opposite side of the crowd, and she felt her back press against his shoulder. She hadn’t realized her hands slipping from the handles until that moment. 

     “Are you okay?” he asked her through his teeth as he continued to smile and wave.

     No, Annie could hardly breathe. She couldn’t remember the last time anger had burned so deeply in the pit of her stomach. Her skull throbbed against the pins pressed into her hair as the heat boiled up her neck. She turned her head towards the crowd, towards his ear, and she hissed the words through stiffened lips, “I hate them.” 

     Finnick couldn’t answer her then, nor during the President’s speech, nor as they ascended the Training Center’s elevator with a handful of other Victors. When they arrived on their floor, he disappeared into the shower, and Annie sat at the vanity ripping the pins one by one from her hair. No matter how gently she tried to remove them, they each snagged against her scalp, left her curls in frayed tangles. Some of them clung relentlessly to tender strands, unwilling to yield. She hadn’t removed even half of them before her frustration consumed her, and she sat with her palms pressed into her eyes, shoulders trembling. 

     She heard the bathroom door open, and Finnick’s quiet footfall against the plush carpet as he approached. He slipped his hands into her hair and closed his fingers around a pin. With a gentle twist, the pin plied open. He plucked it from her head and set it down on the vanity alongside the others. 

     “Why did they pin it like this?” he asked quietly as he continued to unwind them from her hair.

     “It was the only way they wouldn’t cut it,” she told him. “My stylist thinks it’s ugly.” 

     Finnick snorted, “Capitols don’t know the first thing about hair. Most of them wear wigs, and what they’ve got underneath is nasty.”

     Annie looked up at his reflection in the mirror, “Is that how you got so good at taking out these pins? You take off their hair while they take off your clothes?” 

     He kept his gaze fixed on her hair as he worked, “Is this about the sponsor thing I said? I didn’t mean to upset you…” Finnick pulled the last pin from her hair and placed it on the vanity. 

     Annie turned from the mirror so she could look him in the eye, “Whatever happens, I don’t ever want you to have to sell yourself again.” 

     Finnick sighed, and without all the makeup and lights and toothy grins, he looked worn beyond his years. “I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” As their secret mission unfolded, they would either end up dead or in District 13, together. Whichever it was, there was no going back to the quiet, complacent struggle that their lives had been before. It was all or nothing now. 

     Annie stood and held him against herself, and he rested his chin against her shoulder for a long while. The lurid faces of the crowd danced around their heads with echoes of laughter and lust, and finally Finnick could no longer bear it. Annie followed as he wandered into the living room, and the two of them shared a bottle of wine as they watched the city lights twinkle out the windows. When the bottle was dry, they searched for another and were dismayed to find that Mags had locked the rest of the alcohol away before she retired to bed. They key was nowhere to be found, and Finnick relented with a sigh. 

     “We should go to bed,” he told Annie as he spun the empty bottle aimlessly about his knee. She glanced at him cautiously, and he added the words she’d been dreading to hear since their arrival in the Capitol: “Training starts tomorrow.” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

  _[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/79488690892/tempest-rising-5)_    

     By the time Finnick and Annie arrived, the other Tributes had already staked out their territory across the Training Room. The Careers sparred in the specialized weaponry units. The Tributes from 11 studied the plant identification guides by the survival stations, while the Tributes from 6 had gotten into the camouflage paint. Katniss Everdeen explored the elaborate assortment of bows and arrows that had been set out especially for her. If Finnick hadn’t been in on the plan to save her life, he would have rolled his eyes at the blatant show of favoritism. Not that he had any right to, as he could see at least half a dozen different kinds of sleek, deadly tridents waiting for him across the room. Katniss was a favorite to win, and so was he. Finnick glanced up to find Plutarch watching from the observation deck. He gave them the slightest nod—the plan was still in motion, and they needed to find more allies. 

     “Well look at you two,” Johanna Mason smirked as she sauntered up to them, an axe slung carelessly over her shoulder, “all matching and stuff. That’s cute.” The District 7 Victor was one of the only people in Panem that Finnick could consider a friend, one of the few people who knew the true extent of his relationship with Annie. And President Snow had made it more than clear that he didn’t want anyone else finding out. 

     “Oh yeah?” Finnick smiled at her as he stepped away from Annie. “Where’s your date?” 

     Johanna shrugged towards one of the weapons stations, “Probably hitting something.” She gazed back at them intently, “So are you two picking up any allies for this Quell, or is District 4 going it alone?” 

     “We’re going to make allies,” Annie told her, watching out of the corner of her eye as Finnick floated away from her. 

     Slowly, Finnick nodded in agreement, and he glanced across the room to Katniss. “What do you think of  Everdeen?” 

     Johanna raised an eyebrow, “I think she’s going to have some big sponsors this year.” 

     “I think so too.” Finnick scanned the rest of the Training Room. “Who else were you thinking of?”

     “I thought we could split up and do some scouting,” she told him. 

     Finnick glanced at Annie, and she nodded, “We probably should.” The more they were seen together, the more suspicious their relationship would seem. So the three split off in different directions, and Finnick tried not to watch Annie as she wandered towards the survival skills unit. Johanna headed for some of the more capable Tributes from the lower Districts, leaving Finnick to the Careers. 

     They acted as if they didn’t notice when he approached, though Finnick knew they were simply showing off their skills. Glimmer and Gloss hit every passing bullseye with their throwing knives, while Brutus and Enobaria each felled a training assistant in a sparring match. 

     “Not bad,” Finnick said as he strolled towards them. “Looks like you’re all in top shape.” 

     The Careers eyed him over their shoulders. They never much cared for Finnick, who, as an untrained fourteen-year-old, was able to defeat the Careers who’d spent their whole lives preparing for Victory that year. 

     “So do you,” Glimmer raised an eyebrow at him. Of course they all knew that each of them was required to stay fit and trim for the Capitol’s consumption. 

     Gloss stepped up to her side, “So what’s your strategy, Odair? You’re not going to be the only star in the arena this time.”

     Finnick smiled, “Sounds like we’ll just have to form an all-star alliance then, won’t we?” 

     Enobaria looked surprised, “You want to ally with us?” 

     “Why not?” he shrugged. “We’d get all the sponsor gifts we could ever want for. We’d be pretty much unstoppable.” 

     “Who?” Gloss asked him. “The five of us? Because that crazy girl from your District would only slow us down.” 

     Finnick resisted the urge to snap back at him. He scratched the back of his head for a moment before asking, “What do you think about Katniss Everdeen?” 

     A look of disgust spread across the faces of the Careers. If there was one thing Districts 1 and 2 hated more than a lucky kid from 4, it was a lucky kid from 12. 

     “She’s not half as good as they think she is,” Enobaria told him. 

     “Or as _she_ thinks she is,” Gloss added. “She won’t last more than an hour in this Quell.” 

     “Oh, I’ll make sure of it,” Enobaria sneered, giving a glimpse of her fangs. “I’m getting tired of seeing her face everywhere.” 

     The Careers weren’t just indifferent towards Katniss—they were targeting her, and there was no way Finnick could talk them into protecting her, not without the risk of them reporting the plan to their friends in the Capitol. 

     “Well,” Finnick sighed. “I’m going to go check her out. If anything, I think I can get a few sponsor gifts out of her.” He turned to go, when Brutus finally spoke up. 

     “Wait,” the District 2 Career stepped forward, already glistening with sweat from his warmup. “Your trident, my spear. Let’s see it, Odair.” 

     Finnick looked at him for a moment. Brutus wasn’t much taller than himself, but he was almost twice Finnick’s size in bulk. And though Finnick had honed his natural skills through his uncle’s fishing trade, Brutus had spent his entire life in specialized combat training. Finally, he nodded and stepped up to the sparring platform. A training assistant handed him a standard steel trident, and Brutus readied his spear. When they were both ready, the training assistant signaled for them to begin. 

     Brutus attacked first, putting Finnick on the defensive. He was easily able to deflect Brutus’ spearpoint with his multi-faceted trident, and for a moment he was able to hold his ground. But the longer they sparred, the more aggressive Brutus became. The other Careers surrounded the platform, watching intently. This wasn’t just a friendly match between Victors—it was a challenge, a test to see if Finnick was even worthy of calling himself a Career. And Finnick could never resist having to prove himself. He fought Brutus back with just as much fervor, but Brutus blocked his every strike. And Finnick became so focused on trying to land a hit that he hardly noticed when Brutus swooped down and knocked his feet out from under him. The air left his lungs as he hit the concrete floor, and before he could recover,  he felt the tip of Brutus’ spear against the soft flesh of his throat. 

     The training assistants rushed forward and split them apart before any real damage could be done, and Finnick watched as Brutus swaggered away along the rest of the Careers. Finnick had failed their test, and he’d just made four lethal enemies. How was he supposed to protect both Annie and Katniss Everdeen from them if he couldn’t protect himself? Finnick pulled himself to his feet, took up his trident, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he headed towards an unclaimed weapons station.


	6. Chapter 6

_[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/80705684952/tempest-rising-6) _

     Annie didn’t spend much time doing any actual training. Once, she’d been able to wield a blade, to hold her own in combat, but now she could hardly hold a weapon without seeing a child thrust into the end of it. So she spent most of her time hanging about the survival stations with some of the other Victors. Plutarch had assured her that she could trust Wiress and Beetee from District 3, and she spent almost an entire afternoon listening to them explain how force field generators worked. She spent another day tying knots with the Morphlings from 6, though they seemed more interested in making floppy rope bows than they were in learning any actual skills. Still, Annie was able to understand them much better than she had comprehended Wiress and Beetee’s jargon. She’d had her own bouts with morphling, and the experience made it easier for her to decipher their quirks and gestures. They seemed eager to have her around, and when she proposed that they all ally with Katniss Everdeen, they both seemed to understand. 

     Annie didn’t mind being with any of them—however, it didn’t take her long to realize that she’d assimilated into the group of oddities, the strange, physically vulnerable Victors whom the other Tributes generally avoided. Even Finnick never ventured towards the stations where they generally loitered, training instead with the other athletic, capable Victors. Which is why, while flipping through one of the plant identification guides, she didn’t expect him to suddenly lean down and whisper in her ear, 

     “You _have_ to practice sparring.” 

     Annie jumped, surprised to find him right behind her. “I really don’t want to,” she sighed as she looked back to her book. 

     “Yeah, well I don’t really want to either,” he told her, an unmasked edge in his voice. “If we’re going to be allies, then I have to know you can carry your weight.” 

     Annie put down the guide and stood, watching him. She wasn’t sure how much of what he said, of how he said it, was acting, but his tone had unsettled her nonetheless. Reluctantly, she followed him onto one of the sparring platforms. He took up the trident he’d been favoring, then handed Annie a sword. She gripped the handle and tried not to look at the end of the blade as she positioned herself in the proper stance. 

     “Ready?” Finnick asked her. 

     “Yeah,” Annie nodded, and Finnick began with a slow forward swipe. Annie blocked him with her sword, and she grit her teeth against the sound of the clashing metal. Finnick struck again, faster, and when she blocked her sword screeched even louder. The sound sent her heart racing. Bloodied bodies began to appear in the corners of her eyes, severed heads and mangled limbs watching her, grinning with every scrape of metal. Annie started backwards, but Finnick continued to strike at her again and again, each blow more intense than the last, until she could barely hold him off. The bodies were laughing at her now, shrieking in delight. She could see their blood spattered on Finnick’s face, dripping from his teeth as he snarled at her. 

     Annie’s sword clattered to the ground. “I can’t do this!” she gasped, lifting her hands to her ears. The laughter stilled, the visions faded away, and just when she felt she could breath again, Finnick suddenly hurled his own weapon to the ground. 

     “You’re not even trying!” he shouted as the trident reeled across the platform. “You can cover your ears all you want, but if you don’t know how to defend yourself, you’re going to be dead, and the last thing I need is dead weight. So if you won’t train, you can forget about being allies!” 

     Annie stared at him, stunned. She and Finnick had been together for so long now that sometimes she forgot about the person he was when she met him—the vain, selfish, angry boy who stomped around the Victor’s Village and insulted her at every chance he had. He’d changed so much in the years that she’d known him, but with the fear, the stress, the responsibility he suddenly carried, he was beginning to crumble back into that selfish little boy who’d protected him for so long. 

     The trainers, the other Victors, the Gamemakers—the room had fallen silent as all eyes fell upon the two of them. Guilt flickered in Finnick’s eyes as he stormed off of the platform, over to the targeting range. Annie stood there for a moment longer before her body unfroze and she stumbled over to the survival stations. Tears blurred her vision, and she could hardly breathe around the knot in her throat, not with so many eyes still watching her, waiting for her to break down. 

     “He’s a jerk, don’t listen to him.” 

     Annie jumped once again at the unexpected voice, and she spun to find the District 12 tributes standing by her side. Katniss Everdeen had spoken, and she watched out of the corner of her eye as the others in the room gradually turned back to their own business. 

     “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Annie tried to smile even as she wiped at the tears that dripped from her nose. 

     Peeta Mellark smiled back at her with a warm, effortless grin, “You’re Annie, right?” 

     “Yeah,” she nodded. “And you’re the star-crossed lovers.” 

     She hadn’t meant to say it—she hadn’t meant it to be the first thing out of her mouth, anyways. Both of their faces fell as soon as the words left her lips.

     “I’m sorry,” Annie fumbled. “I didn’t mean to…” She wasn’t even sure what she didn’t mean to do. If they really loved each other, Annie knew just how difficult it was for them to be going back into the Games together, and their Capitol-born title surely gave them no comfort. But Finnick had always insisted that they were faking it, that the Capitol was forcing them together for “marketing purposes,” and they weren’t really lovers at all. Either way, she must have insulted them. 

     However, Peeta let out a gentle laugh, “Yeah, I guess we are. I’m Peeta.” 

     “Katniss,” the Girl on Fire nodded at her. 

     “We saw you tying knots the other day,” Peeta told her. “There’s one we couldn’t figure out. Do you mind helping us?”

     Annie took a deep breath as she nodded, “Sure.” She followed them to the knot tying station, her heart still racing as she told herself over and over, _Don’t be the mad girl, don’t be the mad girl, don’t be the mad girl…_ Even so, she couldn’t keep the visions from the corners of her eyes. She stumbled through her knot explanations, losing her train of thought altogether whenever she chanced to look across the room and saw a dead child staring back at her. She’d made such a fool of herself, she was sure that Katniss and Peeta regretted their introductions and were trying to get away as soon as they could.

     But, to her surprise, they stayed for another knot demonstration, then another, and another, patiently, until they were each able to tie every knot on their own. And when Annie had taught them all that she could, they smiled and thanked her, even offered to teach her some of their own skills. Peeta showed her the basics of camouflage painting, and when Katniss couldn’t coax her into shooting a bow and arrow, she showed her instead how to make a hunting snare. They spent the rest of the day with her, floating from station to station, and gradually, Annie found herself relaxing as the hallucinations faded away. She knew that, at least on some level, the two of them were being so kind to her because they felt sorry for her being embarrassed, but they were also two of the only people she’d met since she arrived in the Capitol who didn’t look at her like she was crazy.

     Training hours neared to a close, and while the three of them sat quizzing each other on poisonous plants, Katniss suddenly asked her, “What would you think about being allies?” 

     Annie looked between the two of them in surprise. They’d only just met, and Annie had already demonstrated just how inept she was at combat. “I don’t think I’d be much help to either of you,” she smiled sadly. 

     “You can fish,” Katniss reminded her. “You know every kind of knot we could ever need. You can identify plants. You’re smart, why couldn’t you help us?” 

     “Besides,” Peeta added. “Not all of us have to be good fighters.” He spoke from experience—just last year, he hadn’t done much fighting in his own Games. 

     Finnick had already tried several times to ally with Katniss, but for all his charms and tricks and pretty words, he’d only managed to drive her away. Now, after a few hours of polite conversation, the Girl on Fire wanted Annie as her ally. Annie knew that she couldn’t protect Katniss on her own. Finnick could, but she wanted nothing to do with him. Now was Annie’s chance to unite them. 

     “Alright,” she finally nodded. “Let’s be allies.” 

     Two by two, the overhead speaker dismissed each District to their lodgings. After their fight, Finnick had spent most of the day skulking about the weapons stations, and he avoided her eyes as they both stepped into the elevator. 

     “I’m sorry,” he muttered as soon as the doors encapsulated them. 

     Annie sighed. There was no point in staying angry, not with the precious little time they had left. Still, she couldn’t shake the hurt that sank into her chest as soon as she neared him. She didn’t know what to say, where to begin, and when she didn’t speak, Finnick told her, 

     “I shouldn’t have pushed you, I’m just…” He stopped, swallowed a lump in his throat. “I talked to Haymitch, the District 12 Mentor. He said that if we don’t…’ally’ with Peeta too, Katniss will never cooperate with us.” 

     Annie knew that beneath the gaze of Capitol security cameras, “ally” meant “protect,” meant “keep alive at all costs.” Annie looked at Finnick, and saw the burden of three people’s lives swelling in his eyes. 

     “I don’t know if I can do it, Annie,” he told her with a trembling voice. “The more allies we have, the less I can protect you. And if something happened to you-”

     “Stop,” Annie told him before he could retreat into his tortured imagination. She tried to think of a coded way to tell him that there was more at stake than just what happened to her, that the future of Panem was far more important than her one life. But before she could, the doors opened onto the fourth floor of the building where Mags was waiting. Finnick and Annie showered and had dinner with her before wandering off to bed. The two of them spoke little, still tense after their fallout. But when Finnick crawled into bed beside her, Annie couldn’t help but curl into his arms and rest her ear against his chest—she didn’t have much longer to memorize the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

     Finnick held her, his thumb stroking absently at her arm as he murmured, “I saw you with Katniss and Peeta today.” 

     She nodded against his skin, “They asked me to be their ally.” 

     He shifted beneath her, “I thought they didn’t want any.” 

     “They asked me,” Annie shrugged. “And I can try to talk them into including you too.” 

     Finnick scoffed lightly, “You could probably hang a big mockingjay sign around my neck and Katniss still wouldn’t want to be my ally.” 

     Annie exhaled a laugh, and she felt the tension leaving with her breath. She nestled against him, and her lips brushed his collar as she whispered, “We’ll see.” 

 


	7. Chapter 7

     [ _Tumblr Link_](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/89226618832/tempest-rising-7)

     Two weeks passed before Finnick could even draw a breath. He threw himself into training, securing himself a nearly perfect evaluation score. Bets had already begun to pour in, and Finnick was undoubtedly the Capitol favorite. He would have plenty of Sponsors, plenty of skill, plenty of stamina, and a real chance of winning. Even so, during the Interviews he did his best, along with all the other Tributes, to turn the crowd against the Quell, to convince them that any of their deaths would be a loss, to assure them that if they cancelled the Games, he’d make it worth their while. But even when the show erupted into chaos upon Katniss and Peeta’s dramatic finale, he and Annie were sent back to their room with the assurance that they would both be stepping into the arena the next morning.

     Finnick and Annie wandered into the living room in silence. Mags stood from where she waited on the couch, and with a forlorn sigh she stepped forward and hooked an arm around each of them. The three held each other, their heads bowed together. Tears filled the grooves in Mags’ cheeks—even with the escape plan in place, she could still lose them both. They were expected to lay down their lives for Katniss Everdeen, and they were going up against some of Panem’s most lethal Careers in what would undoubtedly be the most spectacular, savage arena they’d seen in decades. 

     “We love you, Mags,” Finnick murmured in her ear, and she nodded as she squeezed them all the more tightly. She looked up and kissed them both before Finnick finally loosened his grip. Annie held onto Mags a moment longer, and when she pulled away Finnick could see tears glistening in her own eyes. “We should get some rest,” he told Annie quietly, and she nodded. 

     “Goodnight, Mags,” she spoke with a tremor in her voice, and Mags kissed her once more. Finnick took Annie’s hand, and with their last goodbyes they retreated into their bedroom. 

     The door had hardly closed when a sob sputtered from Annie’s lips. For her, the weeks had been grueling. Days upon days wandering the Training Room had amounted to a score little better than that of the Morphlings, and she’d faltered through her interview with Caesar until the crowd’s eyes glazed over with boredom. The combat skills she’d developed in training for her first Games were still so tied up in her fear and her sorrow that she had little hope of recovering them. Annie felt she was upon the last hours of her life, and that realization racked her small frame as she wept.

     Finnick enveloped her in his arms, and she trembled against his chest, her tears staining his shirt. He swallowed at the lump in his throat as he pressed his lips to her hair. “I’m still going to protect you,” he muttered. She shook her head beneath his chin, and he insisted, “I will.” 

     Annie looked up at him, eyes swollen and fearful. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to spend tonight fighting.” 

     Slowly, Finnick nodded, “Okay.” He wiped away at the strands of hair pasted to her damp cheeks, and his touch sent a shiver through her skin. She leaned up on her tiptoes, and he bent his neck to meet her quivering lips. 

     He was only guaranteed this last night with her. It was his last promise, his last apology, his last goodbye—perhaps the last time he would taste her lips, or feel her hair run through his fingers. And no matter his strength or his resolve or his plans, he knew that it could very well be the last moments of pleasure or happiness that she would ever have. So he kissed her, his lips roaming every plane of her skin, his fingertips clenching her flesh with dying thirst. He carressed her feverishly, desperate to remember the width of her brow, the curve of her chin, the length of her neck. He wanted the remember the dip of her collar, the shape of her breasts, the arch of her back beneath his palm. He wanted to remember the taste of her, the feeling of her thigh against his cheek, the splay of her toes and the sound of her voice as she breathed his name. 

     Annie loved him back just as fiercely, her fingers knotted in his hair, her nails sliding down his back, her hips locked against his. She curled herself around him, absorbing every part of him to herself, even to the depths of his ugliness and his anguish. Her hair caught his eyelashes, the corners of his lips, coiled about his arms and his fingers, and he relished it. With final sighs, they settled into each other, seamed together by the sweat on their skin. Annie tucked her head into the groove of his neck, her legs entangled in his as she held him, and she waited until long after her breath had grown silent and even before she spoke, 

     “You know I love you?” 

     “I know.” Finnick lifted his head enough to find the glint of her eyes in the darkness of the room. “And you know I’ve never loved anyone like I’ve loved you, and I never will.” 

     With the Capitol lights twinkling into their window, Finnick could just make out her smile, even as the glimmer in her eyes swelled. 

     “I want you to find happiness,” she told him, her voice hoarse and faint. “Even if something happens to me-”

     “We said we wouldn’t talk about that,” Finnick muttered quickly as he nestled back against her. He glared up at the dim ceiling at tried to keep the tears from running down his cheeks, into her hair. He wanted to believe that he could do it, that he could save her and Katniss and Peeta and himself. But as the night drew on, his doubt gnawed away at more and more of his stomach, and his hands began to tremble. 

     It was then that he felt Annie’s fingers intertwine with his. “Rest,” she whispered. A moment passed before she added, “Please don’t blame yourself.” 

     He knew what she meant, and he knew that no matter what she said to him, there was no way that the guilt of her death wouldn’t weigh on his heart until its last beat. Still, he closed his eyes, and as he listened to the sound of her breath, felt the rise and fall of her chest against his, he slipped into an unexpected sleep.

     And he dreamed about losing her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta are going back to the Hunger Games. They’ve reluctantly agreed to help Plutarch Heavensbee in his mission to rescue Katniss Everdeen from the arena, but now the Games are beginning, and they have to decide whether or not they want to protect Katniss and Peeta or protect themselves.

[ _Tumblr Link_ ](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/90185467577/tempest-rising-8)

     Finnick and Annie’s escort woke them early the next morning, rushed them through a light breakfast, and shooed them off to their separate stylists for final preparations. Annie hardly had a chance to say a word to Finnick and Mags before she was ushered away—she caught only a glimpse of the tears shining in Mags’ eyes, the determination set in Finnick’s jaw as they each held each other one last time. Then, she stepped into the elevator, and as soon as the doors shut her in, a sense of dread sank deep into the pit of her stomach. Her fingers trembled as she pushed them through the sleeves of the dark wetsuit, and her lips quivered as her stylist painted them with a sheer pink gloss—even in death, she had to be camera-ready. Her stylist cinched her ponytail tight against her scalp, and she was finished. Together they walked out onto the Training Center’s landing strip and boarded a hovercraft bound for the Hunger Games. 

     Annie’s heart thundered within her chest as she took her seat. A Peacekeeper stepped forward, armed with a long needle, and she flinched as he injected her tracker deep into the flesh of her forearm. To her surprise, the ride didn’t last for long, and before she had a chance to settle into her seat, her stylist was walking her through the underground chambers that would ultimately place her in the center of the arena. 

     “Well,” her stylist sighed with the note of irritation he always reserved for her. “Happy Hunger Games.” He didn’t wish the odds to be in her favor as he pulled out his phone and began scrolling his thumb across the screen. Annie watched him for a moment, amazed at how someone could be so calloused towards a person who was, in all likelihood, moments away from death. She ached to have Finnick by her side, or to see Mags one last time, and she wondered what they were each thinking now. 

     A quiet, expressionless voice buzzed through the intercom, “Ten seconds to launch.” 

     Annie stepped onto the platform that would lift her into the arena, and a glass tube sealed her in. Her throat coiled into a knot, and she did her best to blink away her tears. She tried not to focus on how she might die—a spear to the gut, an arrow to the eye, a blade to the neck—and instead rehearsed the plan that she and Finnick had agreed on over and over in her head: run from the Cornucopia, find a place to hide, start gathering any potential supplies. Then Finnick would meet up with her once he’d found Katniss and Peeta. Run, hide, gather, run, hide, gather, run, hide, gather—the words danced upon her lips in short gasps, but the more she spoke them, the harder she found it to breathe. Annie gulped for air, and her stylist glanced up at her with an arched eyebrow before looking back to his phone. 

     With a jolt, the platform began to rise, and a whimper escaped Annie’s throat. Her knees shuddered beneath her, and she couldn’t keep the tears from slipping down her cheeks. 

     “Run, hide, gather, run, hide, gather, run, hide gather!” she chanted the words between gasps, but they were void of comfort. She ascended into the open air, and with one breath she knew where she was, even as the burst of sunlight blinded her—she could smell the ocean. 

     Annie blinked away the spots in her vision, and the sight of the arena stunned her out of her panic. She expected to see the ocean on one side of her or the other, perhaps in front of her or behind her. But everywhere she looked, she saw water. Waves lapped at the Cornucopia, at the Tribute’s pedestals, at the shoreline that circled them in the distance. She’d never seen anything like it, and she looked to Finnick for an explanation. But she found the male Tribute from 11 to her right, and the male Tribute from 6 to her left. They looked at her with just as much bewilderment as they each realized that the Districts had been entirely scrambled. 

     On the island just ahead of her, a holographic clock counted down from ten seconds. She scanned the other Tributes for as far as she could see around the Cornucopia, but there was no sign of Finnick. Her panic resurged—how were they supposed to find each other now? There was no direction that she could run—should she swim to shore? Search for Finnick? For Katniss and Peeta? Before she could decide, the start cannon boomed in her ears. 

     The Tributes on either side of her dove from their pedestals. Everywhere she could see, Tributes were swimming towards the Cornucopia or towards the shore. But Annie couldn’t bring herself to move. She watched as the first Tributes reached the island, scrambled over each other for their choice of weapons. The man from 11 grabbed a knife and plunged it into 6’s neck before the man from 6 had a chance to gut him with his sword. A cannon boomed, and Annie felt bile creeping into her throat when another figure caught the corner of her eye. 

     Peeta Mellark teetered three pedestals away, gazing down into the water with his brow drawn together in consternation. 

     “Peeta!” she called, and he blinked up at her. One look at the fear etched in his face, and she understood—he couldn’t swim. His eyes pleaded for her help, and with a nod, she dove towards him. 

     For just a moment, the chaos of the arena faded away as the water enveloped her. Gliding through the sun-warmed ocean, the noise in the air dulled by the bubbles rushing past her ears, she could almost pretend she was home. Then, she came upon the land bridge that separated her and Peeta. The rocky trail led from the Cornucopia to the shore, but couldn’t be reached from the pedestals without swimming. She looked to the shoreline, where a veil of trees offered shelter. She could follow the plan, run and hide. If Peeta stayed in place, Finnick would find him and bring him to safety. She looked back towards him, only to find his pedestal empty. 

     Moments later, Peeta’s head bobbed above the water, and he gasped for air before sinking back under. Another head bobbed above the waves, the man from District 8. He dragged Peeta down, held his head beneath the water even as Peeta’s hands flailed above the surface. 

     Annie no longer had the luxury to chose her next move. She dove back into the ocean and swam for them. She could feel the currents of their struggle as she approached, and in the clear waters, she could see the two of them tangled together, Peeta’s head still submerged. Annie locked her arm around 6’s throat, and with a gag he loosed his grip enough for Peeta to escape to the surface for a breath. As soon as he was free, she released the man’s throat, but he caught her by the arm and wrenched her forward before pinning her against the base of the pedestal. 

     Annie didn’t go to the Capitol often. She didn’t get a chance to know the other Victors well, and she didn’t know much about this man from 6. She knew his name was Gin, and the few times she’d spent with him, he made her laugh. But that glint of humor in his eye had disappeared, and in its place was something primal, something savage. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her beneath the water, raking her spine against the ribs of the pedestal as she went down. 

     The pain rippled through her back, and she lost her breath in a gasp. But she had no fear of water. She swam deeper, broke away from his grip, and resurfaced in time to see Gin grabbing at Peeta once more as he clung desperately to the pedestal. 

     “Gin!” Annie screamed his name. She managed to get between him and Peeta, and he attacked her again, grabbing at her neck, striking her, dragging her beneath the surface. “Gin, stop!” she pleaded. She searched his face, tried to find the humanity beneath the fear and the rage, but his gaze was wild, animalistic. Then, the life evaporated from his eyes. 

     Gin grew limp, the shaft of an arrow protruding from his back. A cannon sounded, and Annie looked up to see Katniss Everdeen poised on the opposite land bridge, another arrow already aimed to fire. Finnick was swimming towards them, and together he and Annie helped Peeta flounder to shore. 

     “Let’s go!” Finnick commanded before Annie even had a chance to get to her feet. He dropped a spear at her knees, and she fumbled for it before staggering into a run behind Katniss. Peeta followed close behind, and together the four of them raced across the land bridge and onto the shoreline. 

     Cannons echoed in her ears until she could no longer separate the real ones from the imaginary. Gin died over and over again before her eyes. Her legs felt like jellyfish, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Peeta passed her on the shore, and she couldn’t keep up. The others disappeared into the trees, but she stumbled to a halt, doubling forward as the contents of her stomach erupted from her throat. 

     She was still choking up the last bit of bile when Finnick’s hand closed around her arm. He jerked her over the puddle of vomit and into the safety of the tree line. 

     “If you’re going to ally with us, you’ve got to keep up,” he barked at her. 

     Annie blinked up at him, startled by the harshness in his tone, but he turned away before their eyes could meet. She followed behind him, her stomach still knotted in her gut, and they rejoined Katniss and Peeta before heading deep into the jungle. 

     They ran until they could no longer see glimpses of the ocean behind them, or smell its salt in the air. Only then did they slow to a stop, panting as sweat dripped from their chins. The jungle heat was thick, stifling, almost unbreathable. 

     “We’ve got to find fresh water,” Katniss breathed, wiping at the loose strands of hair pasted to her forehead. 

     Finnick nodded in agreement, “Let’s change course, and we’ll start looking.” 

     “Why do we have to change course?” she frowned at him. “We should keep going straight.” 

     “If we keep going in the same direction, we’ll be easier to hunt down,” he told her. 

     “But we’ll be safer the farther we get from the center of the arena,” she argued. 

     “So what, you want to go all the way to the edge? If we do that, the Gamemakers are going to turn us right back around, and I don’t expect it’s going to be pleasant.” 

     “Fine,” Katniss stood from where she crouched in the underbrush. “Do what you want. We don’t have to with you.” 

     Finnick smirked at her as he held up his wrist, “According to Haymitch, you do.” 

     It was the first time Annie had ever seen the gold bangle wrapped around his wrist. She had no idea what it meant, but apparently it held some significance to Katniss as she sneered at it. 

     “Haymitch isn’t here,” she retorted. 

     “You want to see how well you make it on your own?” Finnick raised his eyebrows at her. 

     “We can take care of ourselves,” Katniss assured him. “Let’s go, Peeta.” She turned to go, and Finnick started after her, trident in hand, 

     “Listen, you-”

     Katniss whipped back around, her braid flying over her shoulder as she reached for an arrow.  

     “Both of you, stop!” Annie jumped between them, one hand on Katniss’ shoulder, the other planted squarely on Finnick’s chest. “The longer we stick together, the better chance we have of surviving, but not if we waste all our energy fighting each other.”  

     Peeta rested his hand on Katniss’ other shoulder. “She’s right,” he said quietly. “We’ll change direction for a little while, then keep zigzagging away from the Cornucopia.” 

     Katniss glanced at him for a moment before she finally relented. “Fine,” she muttered, pulling away from Annie’s grip. 

     Annie watched her go, and it took her a moment to realize her hand still rested on Finnick’s chest. She looked at him, and finally their eyes met. 

     Finnick wrinkled his nose at her. “Hands off,” he snapped, and she flinched away from him. He turned to join the others, and Annie watched him go, tears welling in her eyes as she realized that the Finnick she knew wouldn’t be with her in her last hours of life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta are back in the Hunger Games. They’ve reluctantly agreed to help Plutarch Heavensbee in his mission to rescue Katniss Everdeen from the arena, but now the Games have begun, and death is a wrong step away.

_[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/90968685702/tempest-rising-9) _

     Haymitch had slipped into Finnick’s dressing room that morning, his lips pressed together in sympathy. 

     “Are you ready?” he’d asked quietly. 

     “Of course,” Finnick had flashed a brilliant smile, until Haymitch nodded towards the ceiling, 

     “Cameras are down.” 

     Finnick had let his face fall, let the fear shimmer in his eyes, “Are you sure this is going to work?” 

     Haymitch had nodded, “Keep your eye out for clues. The escape is built right into the arena, and as long as you get Katniss out, you’re going with her.” He’d paused for a moment before adding, “If you keep Peeta alive, she’ll be easier to handle.” 

     Annie, Katniss, and now Peeta. Finnick’s stomach had twisted at the thought of trying to keep three other people alive. “Haymitch, I can’t-”

     But Haymitch had stopped him with a clap to the shoulder, “I know you can do this. Here.” He’d shaken a gold bangle from his arm, closed it over Finnick’s wrist. “If Katniss gives you any trouble, show her this. Remind her who the real enemy is…And don’t you forget it either.” 

     Haymitch’s words still echoed in his ears hours later as Finnick pushed through the thick jungle foliage, clearing the way for those who fell instep behind him. Still distrustful, Katniss had placed herself between him and Peeta, her bow clutched in her hand. Annie struggled to keep up. Vomiting was the worst thing she could have done at the start of the Games, and Finnick knew she was dehydrated. 

     Of course by now, they were all dehydrated. They’d been walking through the thick jungle heat for hours, until their tongues had dried and sweat dripped from the ends of their hair. If they didn’t find water soon, they’d all be in trouble.

     Peeta was the first to break the silence, “Do you see any signs of fresh water yet?” 

     “I don’t think we’re going to find any,” Finnick sighed. “We’ll have to wait for rain.” 

     “How are we going to collect it?” Katniss asked. 

     “The next time we stop for a break, we’ll start weaving some baskets.” 

     “Baskets?” she sounded skeptical. 

     Finnick glanced back at her, even as he continued to reach through the underbrush, “Annie and I know how to make them water-tight. We just need to find the right-” 

     Pain ripped through his arm, and suddenly Finnick found himself on his back, gasping for air. 

     “Finnick?!” Annie hovered over him, cradling his cheeks as she searched his eyes. 

     He blinked up at her, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. His muscles burned, his heartbeat pounded in his head, and Annie’s fingertips felt so cool against his skin. Annie was touching him, caressing his brow, helping him sit up. Snow’s threats swam through his head, his order for them to keep apart, lest one of the be “cut.” 

     “Get off of me,” he grunted as he shoved her away. 

     Katniss stepped forward indignantly, “She just saved your life!” 

     “What?” Finnick glanced at Annie for an explanation, but she looked away from him before tears could fall from her eyes. 

     “We must be at the edge of the arena,” Peeta explained. “You hit the force field. Your heart stopped…” 

     It made sense now—Finnick’s chest ached where Annie had given him compressions, and his lips tasted faintly of vomit. A lump crept into his throat. He was Panem’s best Victor, he was supposed to be protecting Annie, supposed to be saving  _her_  life. What would have happened to her if he had died so soon? Fear hammered at his chest, but he scowled at her as he wiped at his mouth, “Next time do me a favor and don’t put your puke mouth on mine.” 

     Annie’s lip began to quiver, and Katniss stepped between them, “Next time why don’t you show a little gratitude.” 

     Finnick rolled away the tears that prickled at his eyes. With the aid of his trident, he pulled himself to his feet. No one would help him now. Instead, they simply turned away and started walking. Peeta put a hand on Annie’s shoulder, murmuring words of encouragement while Katniss took the lead, guiding the group from the edge of the arena. Finnick followed behind them, his muscles aching with every step. A knot twisted in his gut. He wanted to hold Annie, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to apologize over and over for his cruelty. But Snow was watching, and Finnick was afraid, and the only thing he knew to do with his fear was turn it into anger. 

     He’d succeeded in driving everyone else away. No one would look at him. Katniss certainly didn’t trust him. He feared he may have lost them sponsors. He tried to formulate some sort of casual apology for their next break, but when they finally decided to make camp for the night, Annie sat as far away from him as possible. Without a word, she began to weave a basket for water, and Katniss and Peeta huddled around her, asking how they could help. Finnick sighed and settled down at the opposite side of the clearing to weave his own basket. They’d each made decent progress when the last bits of sunlight finally disappeared from the trees, leaving them in darkness. 

     “…We should take turns sleeping,” Finnick finally spoke up. “Get as much rest as we can.” 

     “I can take the first watch,” Peeta offered. 

     Finnick nodded. He didn’t fully trust Peeta to keep a good lookout, but as the evening stretched on, the pain from the shock had worsened. If he didn’t take some time to recuperate, he risked losing the strength to fight when they inevitably encountered another set of Tributes. 

     “Wake me up if it rains,” he muttered as he stretched out on his back. He gestured up at the darkening sky, “And tell me who’s dead.” 

     Finnick slept right through the announcement of the fallen. He didn’t so much as stir until he felt Peeta shaking him awake, 

     “Finnick. Finnick, I think it’s going to rain.” 

     Finnick sat up with a groan, and a crackle of thunder met his ears. But he glanced up to see stars twinkling through the trees. “Where’s it coming from?” he asked as he scanned the snatches of horizon for clouds. 

     “Somewhere close by,” Peeta told him. “Do you think we should head over there?” 

     He shook his head, “It’d be safer to stay where we are. Let’s hope it comes our way.” Finnick glanced across the clearing where Katniss and Annie were each curled up in sleep. He looked back to Peeta. “Who’s dead?” 

     Peeta scratched at his cheek as he listed off the fallen Tributes, eight in all. The woman from 11 and the Morphling from 6 had been in on the plan, according to Haymitch and Plutarch. The rest simply got them that much closer to finding their way out of the arena. 

     “I’ll take the next watch,” Finnick told him. He needed time to think, to comb his brain for any clues he might have stumbled over during the day.

     “Thanks,” Peeta let out an exhausted sigh as he settled down to sleep. 

     Finnick leaned back against a nearby trunk and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. He replayed the day’s events in his head, sifted through which details might be clues to their escape—the arena’s odd shape, it’s small size, the strange cloudless thunder. None of it made sense. He felt sleep pulling at his eyelids, but he’d already failed Annie once. He wasn’t about to drop his guard again. So he watched the stars, and as the minutes passed, he watched a veil of clouds overshadow them. 

_Rain._ Finnick sighed with relief and scrambled to upright all the baskets. The leaves began to shudder, and with a grin he called out, 

     “It’s raining!” 

     The others began to sit up, grabbing for their baskets. Finnick felt the first drops of warm rain hit his face, and he stuck his tongue out for a much-needed drink.

     He tasted blood. 

     Finnick only had time to gasp before a deluge of blood flooded his mouth, his nose, his eyes. Katniss and Peeta both screamed in disgust. Annie shrieked in horror. Finnick started for her, only to collide with Katniss. They stumbled over each other, and Finnick ended up facedown in a pool of blood. 

     He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. He was sputtering, gagging. He could hear Annie sobbing. 

     “Annie!” Finnick cried. He groped across the jungle floor, his hands grasping at twigs and leaves and air. He felt Peeta grab his arm, sputtering,

     “We’ve got to get out of here!” 

     “Where’s Annie?!” Finnick shouted back. He ripped away from Peeta and started towards the sound of her screams. His foot caught, and he stumbled over her body. “Annie!” 

     She was curled up on the ground, wailing, surrendered to her fear. Finnick scooped her into his arms and ran. “Let’s go!” he cried back towards Katniss and Peeta, but he wouldn’t wait for them. He slammed against trees, staggered over thorns, forced his way through a tangle of vines, and at last he burst through the curtain of rain into the open air. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath, and Annie slid from his arms in a blood-soaked knot.  

     Finnick blinked away the blood in his eyes just in time to see Katniss and Peeta stagger out of the rain, hands twined together. They too dropped to their knees, gagging at the blood that lingered in their mouths. Finnick’s own blood still raced through his veins as he scanned their surroundings. Trees surrounded them on every side. He couldn’t see the shore or the force field—there was no way of telling where they were in the arena. Other Tributes could be lurking nearby, ready to attack while they were vulnerable. The rain could be moving towards them. 

     Finnick pulled himself to his feet, “Annie, get up.” 

     She didn’t move, her palms pressed over her ears as she bawled. 

     He bent over her, the words seething from his teeth, “ _Get up_!” 

     Katniss leapt towards him, her eyes blazing beneath the blood in her eyelashes, “Leave her alone!”  She shoved him away, and Finnick instinctively reached for his trident only to realize it had been lost to the deluge. 

     “If she can’t even stand up, she doesn’t stand a chance!” he retorted. His words only made Annie cringe, even as Peeta knelt by her side to comfort her. 

     “She’s none of your business!” Katniss told him. “And if you don’t leave her alone, you’re out of this team!” 

     Finnick scoffed at her, “You can’t just kick me out.” 

     Katniss reached back, and in an instant she had an arrow mounted and aimed at Finnick’s brow. She didn’t need to say anymore. Finnick was weaponless—he had no choice but to back away. 

     Satisfied, Katniss turned to Annie. She and Peeta surrounded her, used leaves to wipe the blood from her face and her hair as she whimpered over and over again, 

     “Who’s blood is this?  _Who’s blood is this?_ ” 

     Finnick could only crouch nearby and watch.


	10. Chapter 10

[ _Tumblr Link_ ](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/91770235892/tempest-rising-10)

_Whose blood is this?_  Annie couldn’t clear the question from her mind, couldn’t keep herself from imagining Snow tying children up by their ankles, slitting their throats and letting their blood drain onto the crystal white Capitol floors. By now, it had dried into a sticky, black mucus on her skin, and she hugged her knees in an effort to hide the way her body continued to tremble long after her allies had settled down. 

     They’d only taken refuge in another clearing when they were sure the raincloud wasn’t following them. Still exhausted from the electric shock, Finnick had dropped off to sleep as far away from Annie as possible, his back turned to the group. Katniss and Peeta whispered to each other just out of earshot, and Annie sat alone, resisting the urge to vomit up the lingering taste of blood in her mouth. 

     Eventually, the Tributes from 12 made their way towards her. They crouched by her side, their voices low as they murmured quiet “hey”s. 

     “I can keep watch if you two want to sleep,” Annie offered. There was no way she’d be able to even close her eyes, not with visions of slaughtered children still dancing in her mind. 

     The usual gentle look in Peeta’s eye had turned serious, “Actually, we wanted to talk to you about something.”

     Annie glanced at each of them warily, “Okay…” 

     Katniss leaned in, her voice a whisper, “I think we should leave Finnick.” 

     “What?” Annie blinked at them in surprise. 

     “We don’t trust him,” Katniss informed her. 

     “But-” She didn’t know what to tell them. Finnick knew more about the escape plan than she did, and he was certainly the only one capable of protecting Katniss and Peeta. She’d worried before about how they would survive if something happened to him, but she’d never considered that Katniss and Peeta might not want to ally with him. 

     Peeta saw the look of alarm in her eye. “We don’t have to kill him,” he assured her. “We can sneak away while he’s sleeping. Nobody gets hurt.” 

     She fumbled for an excuse. “Don’t you think it would be safer if we stick together? What happens if we run into the Careers?” 

     Peeta shrugged, “What happens when the Careers are gone? Finnick could turn on us.” 

     “I don’t think he would,” she murmured half-heartedly, unable to give them a reason why. 

     Katniss’ brow drew together, “He’s been nothing but a jerk to you. Why do you keep defending him?” 

     Annie hesitated. She couldn’t tell them that Finnick was trying to save their lives, that there was a chance they could all escape the Games, that she and Finnick actually loved each other more than anything else in the world.  “…I think he’s our best chance at surviving.” 

     That gentle glimmer returned to Peeta’s eye, and he reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder, “Annie, we can protect you.” 

     Annie felt tears knotting in her throat. She knew Finnick was doing everything he could to keep her safe, but when he barked at her like he would a beaten animal, or when he’d look at her like she was nothing more than a stupid, mad girl from his District, she didn’t feel safe. And without any reason or gain, these strangers were being so kind to her. A selfish, vulnerable part of her almost wanted to take their offer, to abandon this Capitol-molded Finnick and hope that Katniss and Peeta could make good on their word. But she knew that if she did, there was no way they’d all make it out of the arena alive. “It’s not about that,” she choked. 

     Katniss glanced away, irritation taught in her lips. “Then maybe just the two of us should go,” she muttered.

     Annie’s heart leapt into her throat. “We really shouldn’t split up.” 

     “Why?” Katniss’ patience had worn thin, and she perched on her toes, ready for an argument. Annie looked to Peeta for help, but something beyond her had caught his eye,

     “What is that?” 

     Annie glanced over her shoulder. White tendrils of fog curled through the leaves of the jungle, wafting towards them. Katniss stood, squinting into the cloud, and as it neared, she reached out her hand. The first wisp brushed against her finger, and suddenly she flew backwards with a cry of pain. Blisters erupted across her skin, and Peeta rushed forward to help her while Annie scrambled to her feet. 

     “Run!” Katniss hissed through her teeth, and the three of them staggered away from the oncoming cloud. 

     “Finnick! Finnick, wake up!” Annie shouted as she ran, and he started upright, his trident at the ready. 

     “What? What is it?” He began to look over his shoulder, but Annie yanked at his arm as she dashed past him. 

     “The fog’s poison!” she cried, and Finnick quickly fell in step behind her. 

     The four of them scrambled to get away, but fog was already upon them. Annie screamed as the skin on her back began to boil. She could hear Katniss and Peeta shrieking out around her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Finnick stumble to the ground. 

     Annie gasped his name as she doubled back for him. 

     “I’m fine, I’m fine!” he swatted her away, but she jerked at his arm nonetheless. A wisp of fog brushed their shoulders, brought them both to their knees. Annie’s groan seeped through her teeth, and she watched boils break out on Finnick’s cheeks. 

     “Come on,” she hissed. Finnick managed to stand, and together they floundered forward. Katniss and Peeta weren’t far ahead, and they too struggled to outpace the fog. It encroached them from every side, until the space of unpolluted air before them grew narrower and narrower. If they didn’t outrun the cloud, it would engulf them. 

     Annie was in no shape to run. Her throat cracked with dehydration, her ribs ached with every beat of her heart. Every breath she drew pierced her lungs with needlepoints. Her legs were weak with exhaustion, and her steps grew less and less certain over the uneven jungle terrain. But she couldn’t give up, not when she could tell Finnick was even worse off. She could hear it in the raggedness of his breath, see it in the glassiness of his  eyes. The shock had sapped him of his strength, and though she could support him, she knew that if he fell, she wouldn’t be able to carry him. 

     They’d hardly managed to any ground when Finnick’s foot caught in the underbrush. He fell face forward and grew still. 

     “Finnick!” Annie pulled at his arms until her own feet slipped out from under her. He continued to lay there, his eyes blank, unresponsive, his consciousness fading. “Finnick, wake up!  _Wake up_!” The fog rolled towards them, uninhibited by their plight, and Finnick didn’t so much as stir. In a moment of desperation, Annie’s fear erupted into anger, “You were the one screaming at  _me_  to get up! Do it yourself, you hypocrite!” 

     Nothing.

     “Katniss, Peeta, help!” Annie cried over her shoulder. She could just make out their silhouettes in the darkness ahead. She watched them slow to a stop, hesitate, contemplate whether or not Finnick’s life was worth the risk. Annie’s heart plummeted into her stomach, and tears spilled down her cheeks as she howled, “You can’t just let him die!” 

     They didn’t move. Annie crumbled to her knees next to Finnick as the fog reeled towards them. She knew she should run, that she should do what she could to save Katniss and spark the Revolution, but with death only a breath away, she knew she couldn’t leave him. Annie hunched over Finnick’s body, pressing her lips to his ear as she whispered one last time,

     “I love you.” 

     Suddenly, Finnick lurched forward. Annie’s head snapped up to see Katniss and Peeta dragging him to his feet, and with a cry of relief, she staggered behind them. Arms around each other, they all struggled forward, the fog burning at their backs, closing in from all sides. They weren’t going to make it. Finnick’s knees gave way once more, and they all fumbled to the ground. This time, Annie couldn’t pull herself up. The pain was too great—boils coated her skin, caused her limbs to spasm. It was over. She shut her eyes and waited for death to come, wondering what it would feel like for those blisters to scorch her throat, to fill her lungs. But, she drew one breath after another, and nothing came. 

     “The fog,” Katniss croaked. “It’s gone.” 

     Annie mustered enough strength to lift her head, and she glimpsed the last wisps of fog disappearing into the air. Peeta let out a gasp of relief, and for a moment they all lay in the dirt as their blisters swelled and festered.

     Minutes seemed to pass before Annie heard Katniss begin to stir, but she didn’t bother to look until she heard a splash, then a cry. Katniss had crawled into a marshy pool not far from where they lay, and her groan of pain gradually turned to a sigh. 

     “The water helps!” she called. Katniss crawled into the pool with another moan, and Peeta began to follow. 

     The palms of Annie’s hands swelled with blisters. She used her elbows to pull herself forward even as the boils along her torso made her dizzy with pain. Finally she sunk into the water, and for a moment, every blister seemed to scream in protest. Then, they began to dissolve, the poison leaching out in a milky cloud. Annie let out a groan as she wiped the excess skin from her hands, her neck, her cheeks, and it wasn’t until she wiped the damp hair from her eyes that she realized Finnick still lay on the embankment, shuddering and twitching. 

     Katniss and Peeta stilled as they caught sight of their prone, helpless ally. The Girl on Fire didn’t hesitate for long before she murmured, “We could leave him…” 

     This time, Annie ignored her. Without a word, she stood and climbed towards him. Finnick was only half-conscious, his lips quivering with voiceless words, his eyelids fluttering without seeing. Annie hooked her hands beneath his armpits and pulled. Finnick let out a groan, but on the slick embankment, it was easier to drag him. She slipped once, twice, but Katniss and Peeta only watched, baffled. 

     With one last jerk, Annie hauled Finnick into the pond. He let out a strangled cry as he spasmed, but Annie managed to wade him through the water until he floated just above the murky marsh bottom. She sat in the mud, his head in her lap as she wiped the blisters from his face. She didn’t think twice about slipping her arm beneath the neck of his wetsuit to slough the dead skin from his shoulders, his back, his chest. It wasn’t until her hand was halfway down his abdomen that Finnick’s eyes fluttered open, and a faint grin curled his lips. 

     “Careful,” he warned. “You could get in a lot of trouble down there.” It was a cheap, empty flirtation he must have used a thousand times in the Capitiol, and in his weakened state, it only took her hand against his chest to shove him beneath the water. He resurfaced a moment later, coughing and sputtering, but by then Annie had stood to join Peeta and Katniss on the bank. 

     “We have to get out of this jungle,” she said wearily. “Before something else happens.” 

     “Where else would we go?” Peeta asked. “If we go to the beach, we’ll be sitting ducks.” 

     Katniss shrugged, “We could stay just inside the tree line. If something happens, we’ll be close enough to the beach to escape, but we’ll stay hidden.” 

     “Okay,” Annie nodded in agreement. “Let’s go.” None of them asked Finnick for his opinion, they simply gathered what was left of their weapons and started walking. Annie didn’t even bother to check if he was following them. She was exhausted, frustrated, angry, but more than anything, she was afraid, because in the face of death, she’d dropped their charade. She’d told Finnick she loved him, and there was no telling who’d heard her. She tried not to think about it, tried to tell herself that no one could have noticed amidst the chaos, but no matter how many times she reassured herself, she couldn’t shake the feeling that a target had just been painted on her back.


	11. Chapter 11

[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/92500711122/tempest-rising-11)     

     Finnick skulked behind the rest of the group, and when they found a place to settle down just within the tree line of the arena, he didn’t bother offering to keep the next watch. Not that he could sleep—the blood rain had been had shaken them, and the poison fog had nearly claimed their lives, but there wasn’t anything that the arena could possibly conjure as dangerous as what Annie had whispered in his ear:

_“I love you.”_

     He’d heard it, all of the Capitol must have heard it, and now every crack and shudder of the jungle made Finnick tense as he waited for the next threat, the one that would “cut” Annie from the Quell just as Snow promised. So he spent the rest of the night without so much as closing his eyes, instead staring into the depths of the jungle with his trident gripped in hand, prepared to fight whatever came to claim her. 

     Eventually, the sky began to lighten, and as the sun rose, the others began to stir. Once Katniss was awake and watchful, Finnick slipped onto the beach long enough to spear them each a fish. He strung the bunch of them  together on a vine and handed them to Annie without a word. She unfastened Finnick’s knot with expert hands, then taught Katniss and Peeta how to split the fish open and suck the meat from their skin. She showed them how to pick out the bones, avoid the scales, and once they’d gotten the hang of it, the four of them ate in silence. With each of them still caked with dried blood, pale and haggard from their night of terrors, Finnick wondered whether it would be best to get more sleep or to keep moving in search of water. But before he could decide, Annie let out a scream.

     Her hand flew to the back of of her neck, raking beneath the lining of her wetsuit. She flung a half-crushed spider onto the jungle floor, and it scurried away on broken ruby legs. A moment later, Annie collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Her allies rushed to her aid. Peeta tried to help her sit up, but she grew rigid in his arms. A red, swollen rash crept up her neck, and it became harder and harder for her to breathe. 

     “No, no!” Finnick lifted her head from her chest, clamped her cheeks between his palms as he shouted at her, “Annie, breathe!” But there wasn’t anything else he could do. Annie’s fingers sank into the sleeves of his shirt, her eyes panicked. The muscles of her chest began to lock in place, and her lips began to turn blue as they gaped again and again and failed to draw breath, like the fish they’d just consumed. In minutes, she’d be dead, and all Finnick could do was watch. Tears burned in his eyes, and already he felt grief welling in his heart, ready to burst at Annie’s final breath. 

     With Annie consuming his attention, he was only vaguely aware of the familiar beeping in his ear when Katniss called out, “A parachute!” 

     Finnick’s head snapped up to see the silver container floating towards them. His heart jumped into his throat at the prospect of aid. “Get it!”

     Katniss jumped up and plucked it from the sky, and she dropped to her knees as she scrambled to unscrew the lid. The capsule broke into two pieces, and a slip of paper fluttered to the ground, printed with a single word: 

     ANTIVENOM

     “Give it to me!” Finnick swiped the syringe from Katniss’ hand and plunged the needle directly into the swollen bite. A noise escaped Annie’s throat, and she grew still. Finnick’s stomach sank as he watched her eyes grow distant, unresponsive. Then, she gasped in a breath. The color rushed back to her face, and she relaxed in Peeta’s arms as the antivenom worked its way through her body. 

     “Are you okay?” Finnick pressed her, but she was still struggling to catch her breath. “Annie, are you okay?!” 

     “Yes!” she choked out in exasperation. 

     The exchange wore through Katniss’ last fiber of patience. “What is going on between you two?” she demanded, her eyes darting between them. 

     “Nothing,” Finnick scoffed, but Katniss fired back. 

     “You won’t stop fighting yet you’re willing to die for each other? Do you think I don’t see something is going on?” 

     “Katniss,” Peeta warned quietly, but she wouldn’t relent as she continued to stare Finnick down. 

     Finnick finally rolled eyes and sighed, “Annie’s a good friend of Mags, and I promised Mags that I’d look out for her. Is that what you want to hear? I’m doing my Mentor a favor.”  He turned his attention back to the parachute capsule to make sure their sponsors hadn’t sent them any other goods, when Katniss spoke again, 

     “She said she loved you. I heard her in the fog, when she was ready to die with you.” 

     Finnick froze, his gaze fixed on the empty capsule. Then, he looked up with a grin, “She’s crazy.” 

     All eyes fell on Annie, and she dropped her head, her blood-crusted hair falling in clumps before her face. 

     “Didn’t you tell him you loved him?” Katniss interrogated her despite a stern glance from Peeta. 

     Seconds passed before Annie finally answered, “…I was thinking about someone else.” 

     Katniss opened her mouth to protest when Peeta stopped her,

     “I hear voices.” 

     The group fell silent, and sure enough, snatches of distant words reached their ears. Finnick immediately jumped onto his toes and crept towards the tree line to assess the situation. He knew he’d have to take the brunt of any skirmish they faced, and he was in no shape to fight. If they’d run into the Careers, their only hope was to run and pray the Careers didn’t hear them flee. He grit his teeth as watched figures emerge onto the beach one at a time, and after a moment he recognized a familiar stride. 

_Johanna?_  Finnick craned his neck to listen, and sure enough, he recognized her agitated voice as she barked orders to the others. “Johanna!” he called out to her as he bounded from the cover of the trees. Her head whipped around, and when she saw him, she threw out her arms with a delighted cry, 

     “Look at you, you’re alive!” 

     Finnick grinned as he trotted up to her, “Did you doubt me?” 

     She shrugged, “Well, you never know. What happened to you?” Johanna looked him up and down with a skeptically arched brow.

     He glanced at his arm, marbled in red and black globs. “It was raining blood,” he told her. “You?” 

     Johanna was filthy herself, covered in strange black and iridescent bits. “ _Well_ ,” she began with an exasperated sigh. “It took me and Blight hours to track down Nuts and Volts, then the four of us walked until sunset, and after all that time we still couldn’t find any water. So we made camp for the night, and I’d just fallen asleep when Volts started screaming for us to get up. That’s when I heard the buzzing.” 

     “Tick tock,” Wiress wandered towards them, eyes wide and glassy. “Tick tock.” 

     Finnick looked to Johanna for an explanation. 

     “ _Bugs_ ,” she uttered the word like a curse. “Thousands of them, flying in our eyes and our mouths. We were inhaling them. Blight choked.” Johanna paused for a moment, her gaze dropping to the ground. Then, she thrusted her chin back into the air. “We barely got out of there without choking ourselves, but we made it!” She forced an angry grin, her teeth strewn with bits of legs and wings. 

     Beetee had stumbled into the surf, scrubbing the insect remains from his face, but Wiress pulled at Johanna’s arm, muttering over and over again, “Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.” 

     “And  _she_ -” Johanna shoved her away, “hasn’t shut up since!”  

     “What’s going on?” Katniss called as she approached, her eyebrows drawn together as she watched Wiress stagger backwards. 

     “Nothing,” Johanna rolled her eyes, then caught sight of Peeta helping Annie down the beach. “What’s wrong with you, Mer-mad?” 

     Annie blinked up at her in confusion, “What?” 

     “That’s your nickname,” Johanna informed her. “We’ve got Nuts and Volts, and now you’re Mer-mad.” 

     Finnick laughed, even as he watched the hurt well in Annie’s eyes. He could feel Katniss’ glare on his back, and even Peeta looked openly disgusted as he explained, 

     “She was bitten by a spider.” 

     “Ugh,” Johanna groaned. “I hate bugs.” 

     “Tick tock,” Wiress pushed her way back into the group, pulling at arms, roaming for eye contact. “Tick tock!” 

     “She’s trying to tell us something,” Annie said as she looked at the District 3 Tribute with a strange understanding. “What about ‘tick tock,’ Wiress?” 

     Wiress rushed to her grabbing her hands, “Tick tock! Tick tock!” 

     “What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asked quietly. 

     “She’s in shock,” Beetee explained. “Dehydration isn’t helping.” 

     Johanna scoffed, “I don’t care what her problem is, will someone get her to shut up!” 

     Katniss shot her another glare before she ushered Wiress, Annie, and Peeta towards the water, “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.” The four of them waded out of earshot, and Finnick turned to Johanna and Beete,

     “So you don’t have water?” 

     “We couldn’t find any,” Beetee told him.

     “And we haven’t gotten any sponsor gifts,” Johanna added bitterly. “But I’m sure that hasn’t been a problem for you.” 

     Finnick scratched at the blood dried against his scalp, “Actually, the only gift we’ve gotten was the antivenom for Annie.” 

     Johanna rose her eyebrows in surprise, then nodded towards Cornucopia, “I bet I know where we can get some water.” 

     Finnick squinted towards the island at the center of the arena. “What about the Careers? Have you seen them?”

     “Not since the bloodbath,” she sighed. “But if they’ve had as much fun in the jungle as we have, then they’re probably sticking close to the beach.” 

     “If we put ourselves on thatisland, we’ll be vulnerable to attack,” Beetee muttered. “We might have access to every weapon in the Cornucopia, but not all of us would be able to defend ourselves from the Careers.”

     “If we don’t get water, we’ll all be dead anyways,” Finnick told him. “We don’t have much of a choice.” 

     “We could split up,” Johanna suggested, but Finnick shook his head, 

     “We’d just be giving them an opportunity to pick us off. We stick together.” 

     “Okay, fine,” Johanna huffed. “When do we go?” 

     Finnick looked to the other half of their group, and his eyes couldn’t help but fix on Annie as she sat in the waves, her head bent as Katniss pulled chunks of half-dried blood from their hair, “Whenever they’re ready.” 


	12. Chapter 12

[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/95599891327/tempest-rising-12)

_Tick Tock. Tick Tock._

     “Tick Tock.” Wiress uttered the phrase over and over again, pulling at Annie’s arms as they sat just beyond the surf of the arena’s sea pool. 

     “I’m thinking,” Annie assured her, though her brain was muddled from weariness. “Do you have any ideas, Katniss?” 

     “About ‘Tick Tock’?” Annie could hear the uncertainty in Katniss’ voice. She teased another clot of blood from Annie’s scalp as she thought. “Maybe time?” 

     “Time?” Annie looked to Wiress in alarm. “Are we running out of time?” Only one night had passed in the Arena, and the Games end up lasting for more than a week, but perhaps the window for escaping as Plutarch had promised was much narrower. 

     “Tick Tock,” was all Wiress could say. Annie felt a tug at her hair. 

     “Some of these knots are stubborn,” Katniss told her. “Maybe it’d be easier if you lay back.” 

     Annie glanced at her in hesitation. She already had her hands out, waiting. Slowly, Annie pressed her shoulders back against Katniss’ palms and let herself sink up to her ears. Katniss set straight to work, and sure enough, the clots of blood became much less difficult to untangle with the saltwater’s aid.

     Still, Annie couldn’t bring herself to relax. No one but Finnick had ever washed her hair before—no one else had ever cared to. It was intimate, vulnerable. Katniss could just as easily slit her throat from this position, but she didn’t. She didn’t have to waste her time pulling blood from a near stranger’s hair either, but she was. Perhaps Katniss was simply sympathetic towards the poor, bloody mad girl. Or perhaps, in the short time that they’d known each other, Annie had made a friend. 

     “Thank you,” she murmured, the words half caught in her throat. But when she glanced back at her, Katniss was saying something else. Annie sat up. 

     “It’s a clock!” Katniss exclaimed, her eyes frenzied with realization. “The Arena’s a clock!” 

     “Tick Tock!” Wiress beamed. “ _Tick Tock_!” 

     Annie’s jaw dropped. The lightning, the blood rain, the fog. The way they started and stopped without warning, one after the other—it all suddenly made sense. Katniss helped Annie to her feet, and Wiress ran with them to the shore. 

     “The Arena’s a clock!” Katniss exclaimed, and their Allies on the beach each blinked before they grew wide-eyed. Annie looked for Finnick’s reaction, but he turned to Johanna and Beetee as the three of them exchanged glances. 

     “The wedges are-” Katniss began to explain when Johanna stopped her,  

     “Sure, go ahead and shout it to the whole Arena. Make sure the Careers can hear you.” 

     Katniss instantly pursed her lips in agitation, and Finnick turned back to the group. “Let’s go to the Cornucopia. We can plan while we restock.” 

     “Is that safe?” Peeta asked cautiously, but Finnick brushed him off,

     “We’ll be fine.” 

     “We need water,” Beetee told him. “If continue to dehydrate, we won’t stand a chance against any threats we encounter.” 

     Finnick had already started towards the Cornucopia. Beetee followed, and reluctantly, Katniss and Peeta fell in step behind him.

     “Tick Tock,” Wiress chirped as she grinned alongside Annie.

     Johanna followed behind them. “Not bad, you two. 

     “Wiress figured it out,” Annie told her over her shoulder. 

     Johanna smirked, “Don’t give up all the credit, Mer-mad. You were the only one who spoke enough crazy to realize she was actually saying something.” 

     Annie flinched at her new nickname and turned her attention back to her footing along the rocky trail that lead to the Cornucopia. One bye one, the allies filed onto the island, and after a quick survey, Finnick declared the all clear. Free from the threat of Careers, they descended on the supplies with sighs of relief. Peeta found the water canisters and quickly passed them around. For a moment, all of them were silent as they each sat and guzzled back as much water as their stomachs could hold. 

     “Where’s the food?” Johanna panted as soon as she licked up the last drops off her canister. She propped herself onto her knees and began rummaging through the other containers. Wiress and Beetee both watched her eagerly, and Annie realized, without a fisher or a hunter among the three of them, they must not have eaten since the day before. 

     “We can fish,” she offered with a glance at Finnick. 

     He nodded, “We’ll fish and Katniss will hunt once we go back to shore. First let’s figure out this clock.” He sat next to Peeta, who’d found a stray stick and begun to diagram the Arena in the sand. Katniss and Beete sat on either side of them, and reluctantly Johanna joined the circle, though not before uncovering a packet of dried meat that she quite intentionally kept to herself. Annie sat beside her and tried to ignore the sound of her chewing. Wiress had strayed away, singing a little tune under her breath, but the others didn’t seem to mind whether or not she joined in the discussion. 

     They started with midnight—Beetee seemed particularly interested in the lightning tree that designated the start of the cycle. But it wasn’t long after that that Annie’s mind began to wander. She didn’t care about what was in each sector so long as they avoided them at the right times. But what did this mean for the escape plan? Was the clock a clue? No matter what theory she tried to conjure, she couldn’t shake her initial fear that they were running out of time…

     She only faintly noticed that Wiress had stopped singing when she heard a gasp. Annie turned just in time to see Gloss pulling his knife from her neck. A moment later, an arrow entered his chest, and the two bodies tipped backwards to the sound of two cannon shots. 

     “Wiress!” Annie started for her, but Johanna jerked her back and slung her onto the diagram. Cashmere flew towards them. It only took Johanna a split second to take up her axe and swing it at her head, and Cashmere barely managed to duck the blow before she swiped her knives at Johanna’s midsection. 

_Where’s Finnick?_ It was the only coherent thought she could string together. She was in the eye of the storm that had erupted around her—Cashmere and Johanna cut at each other with their blades, Peeta guarded Katniss’ back as she aimed her arrow back and forth, unable to get a clean shot, Beetee had taken shelter within the mouth of the Cornucopia. At the edge of the island, Finnick’s trident clashed against Brutus’ spear. Annie had seen the two of them sparring in the Training Center every other day. Brutus almost always won. But now he was struggling to keep his foothold on the slick rocks. Finnick had the advantage, and with another few blows, Brutus would go tumbling into the sea. 

Then, Enobaria emerged from beneath the water. She hoisted herself onto the island just behind Finnick, her sword at the ready, her footfall silent lethally silent. 

     Katniss and Peeta shouted Finnick’s name in warning, but the adrenaline that shot through Annie’s body drew her to her feet before she could even take a breath. Weaponless, she charged forward. Enobaria raised her sword, ready to strike. Annie threw herself with all the force she could muster.

     Her arms caught Enobaria around the waist, and the two of them collided onto the stones. Enobaria took the brunt of the fall, but Annie could still feel some of the air leave her lungs. She heard the sword skidding away, out of arm’s reach. Annie had a few precious seconds to disentangle herself from the Career. She gasped for a breath as she started to sit up. But felt a tug on her wrist, and before she even realized she’d been flipped onto her back, Enobaria rolled on top of her. 

     Panic curdled in Annie’s stomach. With one knee free, she kicked desperately at Enobaria’s gut, but it stalled her for only a moment before she managed to pin Annie’s limbs down with all the precision of a trained Career. Rage flared in her eyes, and her lips pulled back in a sneer that bared her infamous fangs. She drew back for the death bite, and there was nothing Annie could do but scream.

     Suddenly, Enobaria lurched backwards. Annie only had a chance to glimpse the limb of Katniss’ bow across her throat before Peeta hooked her under her arms and towed her to safety. 

     “Run!” he shouted a he pulled her to her feet and pushed her towards one of the rocky strips that led back to the Arena. Annie had no choice but to stumble ahead of him as he urged her forward. Soon Katniss came bounding after them with Beetee at her heels. They were almost to the shore when a cannon blast split the air. Annie’s hair whipped her cheeks as she looked back for Finnick. His trident still glinted in the air as he fended off Brutus and Enobaria. Johanna was running to help him. Behind her, Cashmere lay limp, her golden hair stained blood red. Finnick was alive. With Johanna’s help he was going to be safe. But Annie felt no relief—the sound of the cannon had shattered her nerves. 

     “Wiress,” she gasped as she stumbled onto the beach. Wiress’ death battered her mind—the sound of her last breath, the look of fear in her eyes as her life left her. She couldn’t accept it. “We left Wiress!” 

     “She’s gone, Annie,” Katniss’ tone was gentle, her eyes wary. 

     Annie could only shake her head as tears clouded her vision. She didn’t know Wiress well, they’d only spent a few days together in the Training Center. She was intelligent, inquisitive, always exploring this or that gadget. Any discovery she made, no matter how small, warranted a beaming smile. Annie had never seen so much as a flicker of malice or bitterness in her eyes. She was odd, but she was brave. She was happy. She was Beetee’s friend.

     Annie couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart spasmed within her chest, and her knees began to buckle. 

     “Annie,” Peeta touched her shoulder, but she jerked away from him. She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. She wanted to tell Beetee how sorry she was, but she couldn’t breathe long enough to even speak his name. A dizziness began to overwhelm her, and her stomach began to heave. 

     Before she could vomit, Finnick came racing towards the shore. His pretense of disdain for her vanished as he ran to her, his arms twitching to his sides as he stopped just short of embracing her. He searched her eyes, his own filled with fear. They could only look at each other as he struggled to regain his breath. Finally, he managed to speak, 

     “Are you okay?” 

     A sob burst from Annie’s lips, and her knees dropped into the sand. She couldn’t bear it any longer. She couldn’t bear watching people kill each other, watching them die just so someone in the Capitol could laugh and cheer and collect their bets. She couldn’t bear that this was the only moment since the Games began that the real Finnick had slipped through his cruel disguise, and that as soon as she answered his question, he’d slip right back in with some scoff or retort or contemptuous look. Sobs racked her body, and she pressed her hands over her ears. 

     The others had surrounded her. They were arguing back and forth about what to do with her, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, Johanna’s voice began to slip through her fingers. 

     “Mer-mad…” “…thanks to Mer-mad.” “What are we going to do with Mer-ma-” 

     “Johanna,  _stop it_!” The suddenness, the ferocity of Annie’s outburst silenced them all. They looked down at her, waiting for her to rant, to scream, to do something crazy. Annie quickly dropped her head, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn’t keep herself from shaking, but she wasn’t about to give them, or the Capitol, another show.

     Finally, Beetee spoke up, “We need to keep moving. They’re still watching us.” 

     Brutus and Enobaria peered at them from where they still stood on the edge of the Cornucopia’s island, watching for the allies’ next move.

     Finnick looked at them for a moment before he nodded, “Let’s go.” He started for the tree line, and slowly the others began to follow him. Katniss and Peeta hung back at waited until Annie pushed herself onto her feet and stumbled after them, unsteady on her wobbling legs. But she didn’t ask for help, she didn’t take Peeta’s outstretched hand. Instead, she blinked back the rest of her tears and swallowed the bile in her throat, determined, no matter how much time they had left, not to be the mad girl.


	13. Chapter 13

[ _Tumblr Link_ ](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/96891427632/tempest-rising-13)

     He’d almost watched her die. Finnick would have been dead himself if Annie hadn’t intercepted Enobaria’s ambush. But with Brutus’ spear still flying at his face, he could only watch out of the corner of his eye as Enobaria pinned Annie to the ground, nearly ripped Annie’s throat from her neck. If Katniss and Peeta hadn’t decided to intervene, she’d have died for him—and then what? How could he have lived with himself after that, knowing that the one person he truly loved had died protecting him, and that he wasn’t able to protect her in turn?

     “Finnick,” Peeta called him out of his thoughts. “I can’t see the beach anymore.” 

     Finnick stopped and turned to his allies. For a moment, he’d forgotten all about them, where they were going, where he was leading them. They’d slowed to a stop, hunched over and breathless from the fight and subsequent retreat. 

     “Yeah,” Finnick sighed, his own legs aching with exhaustion. “We’re probably safe here.” 

     “But where are we?” Johanna asked. Thick, green foliage surrounded them on every side, and the canopy of trees overhead obscured their view of the sky. 

     “We’re not on the same side of the Arena,” Beetee informed them grimly. “The Careers drove us the other way. I’m sure it wasn’t by accident.” Of course. If the Careers couldn’t kill them, they made sure they’d at least displaced them, disoriented them, and, perhaps unwittingly, left them in the path of oncoming danger, as noon had long since passed, starting another revolution of horrors. 

     Katniss secured her bow onto her back, “I can check.” No one protested as she hauled herself up the nearest tree and disappeared into the canopy. Peeta stood and watched for her while the others sank into the mossy earth and waited. Annie huddled against a distant trunk, her knees clutched against her chest as she tried in vain to keep from trembling. Her cheeks were drained pale, save for the tinges of blood rain that still stained her skin, and her eyes were hollow and distant, still swollen red from the tears she’d shed only moments before. Finnick couldn’t bear to see her so shaken. He looked back to the trail they’d cut through the jungle, half expecting the Careers to have followed them. But they never appeared, and minutes later Katniss dropped back to the ground. 

     “Beetee’s right,” she told them. “We’re on the other side of the Arena. Twelve o’clock is that way.” She pointed past the tree, into the thick of the foreboding jungle. “By the look of the sun it’s about three. I think we’re around seven or eight—we’re right in the clock’s path.” 

     Peeta’s brow drew together in concern, “Do you think the Careers will hold the beach?” 

     “I would,” Johanna scoffed. “The jungle’s a nightmare.” 

     “So what do we do?” Katniss frowned. “Keep running in circles until the Careers or the Arena pick us off?” 

     “No,” Beetee murmured, his eyes pensive, a coil of wire clutched in his hands. “I have a plan.” 

_A plan_. Finnick’s heart leapt at the word. He’d hoped Beetee would be able to figure out the escape plan that Plutarch said he’d wired into the Arena—was this it? He huddled around Beetee with the others, trying not to look to eager as he listened. 

     Beetee’s plan was simple enough, if it was even possible—electrocute the Careers on the beach by running his cable from the lightning tree to the damp sand on the beach. He assured his skeptical Allies that it would work, that by the end of that night they’d be rid of their enemies, but by the gleam in his eye, Finnick suspected he had more in mind than killing Careers. Johanna caught Finnick’s eye, her brow raised in awareness. She began to stand, 

     “Let’s go then.” 

     A collective, weary groan stopped her. The fight had exhausted them, and they still hadn’t managed to get their hands on any food. 

     “Give us a minute,” Finnick pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the headache that clenched his skull. 

     Johanna sneered at him, “Until what? The clock catches up with us?” 

     “We’ve got a few hours,” he reminded her. 

     “I can find us something to eat,” Katniss offered. 

     “We can take turns sleeping,” Peeta suggested. “Maybe an hour at a time?” 

     The group was settling in. Johanna rolled her eyes as she slumped back to the ground,

     “Fine. It’s not my fault if we all die.” 

     Her Allies ignored her. Katniss loosed her bow from her shoulders and started into the jungle. Peeta offered to stay up until she returned, allowing the others a chance to rest. Despite her protestations, Johanna rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her arms to sleep, while Beetee settled down a stone’s throw away from her. 

     Annie hadn’t said a word. She continued to huddle against the tree trunk, her gaze fixed on some traumatic memory ravaging her mind. Finnick knew that look well, and he couldn’t stand to watch her suffer any longer. Quietly, he approached her, waiting until she finally blinked up at him before he asked, 

     “Are you really okay?” 

     “I’m fine,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes. She curled into herself, bracing for an insult, and Finnick felt his heart begin to tear. Not only couldn’t he protect her, but in a matter of hours, he had Annie flinching at the sound of his voice. He was determined to get her out of the Arena, but did she even believe he could? If he did, would the hurt he’d caused her in the Games follow them out? 

     Finnick crouched down until he faced her. “Like it or not,” he told her in as gentle a tone as his Capitol voice would allow, “I made a promise…to Mags.” 

     Annie looked at him then, and her momentary confusion turned to realization. Finnick hadn’t made any promises to Mags. He’d made promises to her. 

     Finnick nodded ever so slightly as he continued, his words carefully chosen, “I promised her that I would help you for as long as I can, so I’ve got to know you’re okay.” 

     A ghostly smile flickered on Annie’s lips before she spoke, despair hanging heavy  on her shoulders, “Mags knows what’s going to happen sooner or later.” 

     Finnick shook his head, “No, there won’t be anymore close calls. I won’t let the Careers or this Jungle—”

     “Finnick,” Annie stopped him just as his mask had begun to slip. “One of us has to die,” she reminded him. Of course they knew that wasn’t their only option, but Annie’s voice quivered with hopelessness as she added, “Mags doesn’t want you to die for me.” After what happened with the Careers, with Wiress, she sounded like she was giving up, and Finnick knew if she did, he wouldn’t be able to save her. He couldn’t carry her through the rest of these Games—he didn’t have the strength. There was only one thing he could tell her that could possibly restore her faith:

     “Beetee has a  _plan_.” 

     Immediately, some of the life returned to Annie’s eyes as she looked up at him, “What kind of plan?”

     “He says it’ll get rid of the Careers,” Finnick told her, though the hush in his voice conveyed otherwise. 

     Annie’s own voice was barely a whisper as she asked, “And then what?”

     “I don’t know…” This could be their chance, they could be within hours of escaping. 

     She leaned toward him, “So what do we do?” 

     He nodded towards the jungle, “We have to get to the lightning tree before midnight.” 

     Annie looked to their Allies, exhausted and immobile. Already, the light that filtered through the trees was turning golden in the afternoon. “How?” she asked him. 

     He shrugged, knowing only one thing for sure:

     “We’ll have to beat the clock.” 


	14. Chapter 14

[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/98508509737/tempest-rising-14)

     Midnight. It was only hours away, but could Annie last until then? Katniss had returned with game, and Annie had eaten for the first time since that morning. She tried to lean her head against the tree at her back and rest, but she couldn’t still her trembling, couldn’t stop hearing Wiress’ last breath. Eventually, she gave up trying and instead kept watch while the others slept. 

     Finnick had settled down nearby. Her heart hadn’t stopped aching since he’d spoken to her—she saw the fear in his eyes, and she knew her death would break him. She couldn’t leave him alone and grief-stricken, not to the jaws of a vengeful Capitol if they failed, not to the the harrowing uncertainties that would await them in Disrict 13 if they escaped. She didn’t want to leave him, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to see Mags again, to have a family, to find new shells on the beach, to watch the wrinkles form in the corners of Finnick’s eyes as the years stretched on. But she felt as if she would crumble long before the clock struck twelve. 

     Annie had only vaguely noticed Beetee rise and wander off a few minutes before. She’d almost forgotten when the sound of his return startled her sick, and she nearly screamed out that the Careers had found them. Before she could muster the breath, his face appeared in the shadowy jungle foliage. 

     “It’s just me,” he assured her as he approached, a bundle of indistinct green leaves in his hand. He knelt down and offered one to her, “Try this. It’s kavoca.” 

     Annie blinked at him in concern, “Like kavacaine?” 

     He nodded, “When its natural chemicals are concentrated into high doses, it becomes a powerfully addictive drug. But the low concentrations in the leaf alone can reduce anxiety.” He paused for a moment before he added, a bit sheepishly, “I spent some time at the plant identification station in the Training Center.” As he spoke, Annie saw a fragments of leaves already wedged between his gum and his cheek. Wiress was his friend, and other than Annie, no one seemed to have mourned her. 

     “Thank you, Beetee,” Annie gratefully took his gift, and he showed her how to break it up and store it against her cheek. Finally, he offered to keep watch before wandering back to his coil. 

     Annie leaned back against the tree once more and waited. The juice that seeped onto her tongue was so sweet, she figured the plant had to be some machination of the Capitol, ready for instant pleasurable consumption no matter how basic its form. But within a few minutes, she could feel her trembling subside, and as her body relaxed, the exhaustion that she felt turned to a restful doze. 

     “Annie, wake up,” Peeta was shaking her shoulder. “It’s time to go.” 

     She blinked awake, startled by how much darker it had gotten, “Did we oversleep?” 

     “We’re fine,” Finnick announced to the group as he gathered up supplies. “But we need to start moving.” 

     Annie pulled herself to her feet, and Johanna handed her several canisters of water to carry. With weapons and supplies in hand, they started around the gradual curve of the arena that would lead them to the lightning tree. 

     But the terrain was more difficult than they expected. Winding, exposed roots snagged at their feet, rocky ledges threatened to drop them without warning, and pits of quicksand lay hidden just beneath the fallen leaves. The sun sank faster than they could walk, and all too soon twilight was upon them. 

     “I should check how far we’ve gotten,” Katniss suggested, but Finnick shook his head, 

     “We don’t have time.” 

     “If we can’t get to the tree in time, then we have to head for the beach,” she told him. “We’ll figure out some other way to take out the Careers.” 

     “This is going to work,” he promised. “We just have to—”  Suddenly, Finnick halted, and his Allies drew to a stop beside him. Before them stretched a field of thick, green vegetation with leaves of clenched jaws and sharp, thorny teeth. 

     Annie looked to Beetee, “Did you see these at the plant identification station?”

     “No,” he muttered as he gazed at them over the rim of his glasses. “These are new.” 

     Finnick gingerly stuck the blunt end of his trident into their midst. Nothing happened. 

     “The thorns could be poisonous,” Katniss told him. 

     “But it’s not the hour for this sector,” Peeta pointed out. 

    “Not yet,” Johanna reminded them. 

     Finnick pulled a thorn from one of the plant’s jaws to inspect it. He showed it to Beetee as he said, “I don’t see any poison. It’s sharp, but if we’re careful we can get through in time.” 

     “Then let’s go,” Johanna charged in first, hacking at the plants with her axe as she walked. When she didn’t drop dead, the others fell in step behind her. Annie watched the plants cautiously, expecting their jaws to open at any moment. They remained clamped shut, and just as she began to feel safe, she noticed a set of thorny teeth tinged with blood. 

     Annie gasped just as the others began to notice blood-stained trail unfolded ahead of them. As they walked, scraps of fabric began to dangle from their clamped jaws. Scraps of fabric, then flesh. Annie’s stomach began to turn, then Peeta stumbled over the remains of an arm. The body wasn’t far away, stripped to the bone by the carnivorous vegetation. 

     It was too late for Annie to look away. She could already hear the screams, imagine the final moments of agony. Her steps began to falter, and Johanna doubled back for her. 

     “We don’t have time for a meltdown,” she barked, but Annie jerked away from her grasp, still resentful of her name calling. Instead she followed Katniss and Peeta in silence, trying to force the image of the bloodied body from her mind. But they didn’t get far when Katniss slowed,

     “It’s not over.” Another gory trail wound through the field, and they followed it until the toothy underbrush gave way to a forest of strange trees. Lattices of exposed roots rose several feet above the ground, winding outwards from their smooth trunks as if the tree had been turned onto its branches. 

     “There,” Peeta breathed. The bloody trail ended at another mangled body trapped within one of the tree’s roots. But this time, she was breathing. 

     “She’s alive!” Katniss ran to her without question, and Peeta followed haltingly behind. Together they untangled her from the tree, and it was only when they dragged her out onto the jungle floor that they could see just what had happened. Gory bits of flesh and soiled bone were all that was left of her legs, and chunks were missing from her torso, her arms, her face. Somehow, she’d managed to drag herself from the flesh-eating underbrush only to become trapped for hours within the roots. Her cheeks pallid, her eyes unfocused, she was only vaguely aware of the buzz around her. 

     “Give me some water!” Peeta called out to the others while Katniss began to wrap her exposed flesh in freshly fallen leaves.

     Annie couldn’t move. Sickness writhed in her stomach, but she couldn’t look away. Finnick, Johanna, and Beetee still stood by her, their faces grim as they watched on. 

     Finally, Finnick spoke the truth:“She’s not going to make it.” 

     Katniss’ hands slowed, and Peeta looked up at him, 

     “We can’t just leave her like this.” 

     “Then put her out of her misery,” Johanna suggested, a sarcastic edge in her voice.

     Peeta looked back to Katniss. She sat still for a moment, her brows drawn together as she contemplated with the air. Slowly, she unsheathed one of her hunting knives, brought it to the woman’s bloodied throat. 

     At the first moan, Katniss retracted the blade. Still, the woman whimpered in protest, dry tears swelling in her eyes as she babbled weak, wordless pleas. 

     “She doesn’t want to die!” Peeta told the others. 

     “None of us  _want_  to die,” Johanna retorted. 

     “She’s almost gone anyways,” Katniss murmured. 

     “Then let’s go,” Johanna retorted. 

     Peeta shook his head, “The least we could do is stay with her.”  

     “We don’t have that kind of time,” Finnick informed them. “If we’re going to get to the lightning tree before-” 

     “Then go,” the Girl on Fire glared up at him. “We’re not asking any of you to stay.” 

     Finnick stopped short, unable to explain why he couldn’t just move on without them, unable to form a believable excuse. 

     Instead, Johanna threw her head back with an eye roll and a growl of frustration. “This is ridiculous!” She grabbed Annie’s arm and hauled her away from the gory scene, only to slump to the ground against a patch of tree roots a few paces away. Annie had no choice but to stumble behind her, her legs giving way as they sat. Johanna wouldn’t look at her, her jaw flexing back and forth in anger. 

     “You can’t save everyone,” she finally grumbled, picking at the dirt with her axe. “And you can’t sit around and wait for people to die.” Johanna fell silent, save for the sound of her blade striking the earth. Annie slouched up by her side, listening to the woman as she clung to life with each wheezing breath. 

     Beetee’s leaves couldn’t help her any longer, and when she spat the sickly sweet taste from her mouth, Johanna recoiled,

     “If you’re going to puke, do it somewhere else.” 

     “I’m not,” Annie muttered before curling up against the roots. The two of them sat quietly for a long time before Annie spoke again, “…I don’t even remember her name.” She swallowed back the bile and the tears that crept up her throat. “I know she’s from 6, but-”

     “It’s not your problem,” Johanna told her, but Annie couldn’t stop thinking about the woman dying behind their backs. 

     “There’s probably someone that loves her. They’re watching her die.” 

     Johanna’s eyes dropped to the ground as she shrugged, “Not everyone has people who love them…”  

     Just then, Finnick rounded the trunk of the tree. He glanced at Annie for only a moment before he looked to Johanna, “Take Annie and Beetee to the lightning tree. We’ll catch up with you.” 

     Johanna scoffed, nodding back in the direction he’d come, “You think you can handle those two idiots by yourself?” 

     He shrugged a shoulder but didn’t answer. 

     “I’ll stay,” Annie offered. There was no way she’d part with him, not when there was a good chance she might never see him again. 

     Finnick’s Capitol persona reemerged with a sneer, “No, I’m not carrying all three of you. Just go with Johanna and maybe we’ll keep you alive for a little while longer.” 

     Annie was no longer convinced by his act. She looked him in the eye as she told him, “They might hurt you.” She knew Katniss and Peeta didn’t want to kill people any more than she did. She also knew that they didn’t trust Finnick, and the thought of what they might do if they got scared made her shiver. 

     “Just forget it,” Johanna interjected. “We’ll wait for 6 to die. How long can it take?” 

     Finnick looked doubtfully at his fellow Victor, “You know what people can do when they’re afraid to die.”


	15. Chapter 15

[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/99701775867/tempest-rising-15)

     She held on for hours. Somehow, the Morphling from District 6 continued to draw in gasp after gasp, and Katniss still insisted on staying by her side until the very end. As night crept through the jungle, Finnick knew that precious seconds were ticking by, but his anxiety had been overcome by the same lethargy that had befallen everyone since the Career fight. Johanna had dozed off while Annie kept a weary vigil by her side. Beetee’s pacing had long since given way to a resigned stoop, and even Peeta had to blink the sleep from his eyes as he sat with Katniss and the Morphling. In the hours of quiet they’d had since the fight, it was all too tempting to pretend that the greatest danger had passed, that the arm of the Arena’s clock wasn’t yet reaching for them, and in his malaise, Finnick could think only of what it would be like to lie down and sleep. 

     Then, they heard the snap of a twig in the distance. The group froze, and Finnick blinked the sleep from his eyes as he took up his trident, ready to fight off the Careers or whatever else had stumbled upon them. The snapping continued, but no one appeared. 

     “It’s those plants,” Beetee said quietly, his glasses glinting in the faint moonlight that found its way to the jungle floor. Only a few paces away, the jaws of the flesh-eating plants had begun to bloom open, snapping closed again at the slightest brush of an insect’s wing—Finnick could just see them stirring if he squinted. 

     Beetee turned to him, “We’re only one sector ahead now. If we don’t move, we’re going to be caught up in the next threat long before we can reach the lightning tree.” 

     Finnick glanced at him doubtfully. By now, the task of crossing through a third of the arena before midnight seemed insurmountable. “Can’t we figure out something else?” 

     Beetee looked at him over the rim of his glasses, his eyes strained with urgency, “This may be our only chance.” Their only chance to escape, Finnick’s only chance to get both himself and Annie out of the Arena alive. Finnick nodded solemnly before he turned to the others. 

     “Time’s up,” he shouted at Katniss and Peeta as he approached. “We need to move.” 

     He could see the worry in Katniss’ face as she listened to the plants snapping at her back. She exchanged a look with Peeta, and the two of them stood. 

     “We’re taking her with us,” Katniss announced. “We need to build something to carry her.” 

     “ _We don’t have time!_ ” Finnick reminded her in frustration, but she ignored him as she began to collect up broad leaves and fallen branches. 

     Finnick couldn’t stand by anymore. Katniss started past him, and he stepped in her way, doing nothing to stem the disdain that dripped from his words, 

     “I know you think you’re special for getting your fake boyfriend out of last year’s Games, but I’m tired of this protector-of-the-innocent act. You know you can’t carry everyone to the finish line. It’s the  _Hunger Games_ —eventually somebody has to die.” 

     Katniss glared up at him, her scorn seething between her teeth, “Are you volunteering?” 

     “Katniss,” Peeta spoke quietly from behind her. “The longer we fight, the less time we have.” He was right—she glared at Finnick for a moment longer before, reluctantly, she broke her gaze. Finnick watched her and Peeta stubbornly turn back to their project, and he looked to the others for help. They only stared back at him. It was clear there wouldn’t be any reasoning with Katniss, and unless they wanted to leave her, they had to wait. 

     Annie stepped in to help, and reluctantly Beetee began to offer advice on how best to construct their makeshift stretcher. But nothing was working—the branches they collected were too crooked, the broad leaves too fragile, and they had nothing to bind one to the other. They tried to create a base with twigs, but they didn’t have enough. Peeta and Annie began to search for more while Beetee began to experiment with the veiny, pliable roots that stilted the trees around them. All the while, Finnick kept a close watch, and the Morphling lay gasping at their feet. 

     It didn’t feel like an hour had passed—they’d finally managed to wind the roots between two sturdy branches to make the base of the stretcher. They’d lined it with the broad leaves, and Katniss was beginning to instruct Beetee and Peeta on how best to load the Morphling onto it when her voice was lost in a screech. 

     Finnick’s stomach turned at the inhuman sound. The wind suddenly whipped around them, and he could only catch a glimpse of the black masses that descended on them from the treetops. He let out a cry to run, but the word came out a garbled shout as he staggered backwards. The Allies scattered, all save the Morphling lying helplessly on the ground. The shrieking beasts descended on her, and it was only a moment later that they ripped her into the air, disappearing into the darkness of the canopy. She’d been too weak to scream. The trees shuddered above them. A cannon shot echoed above the flurry of falling leaves, the beat of wings, the ear-splitting screeches. A moment later, her mangled body came crashing to the ground, every drop of blood sucked from its flesh. 

     Blood. Wings. Black.  _Bats_ —Finnick’s frenzied brain could hardly put the pieces together as he scrambled to find the others, stumbling over the roots in the darkness. 

     “Katniss!” he called out for her, but he couldn’t find the Girl on Fire in the dark. He opened his mouth to call for Annie, but the bat mutts descended again, and Finnick barely managed to raise his trident before he was flattened by the beat of great, leather wings. 

     The wolf-sized mutt’s legs scraped at him, barely shorter than the length of the trident lodged in its chest. It shrieked in dismay, its bared fangs glinting within its twisted face as is tried to writhe away. Finnick could feel the blades caught within its ribs, and he knew he couldn’t pull the weapon free. He thrust his trident forward with all his might, and when the mutt reeled back with a screech, Finnick managed to stagger out from under its weight. 

     “The trees!” Beetee was shouting from somewhere in the tumultuous darkness. “Get in the trees!” 

     The image of the Morphling flashed in Finnick’s mind, the way they’d found her tangled up in the roots. She hadn’t gotten stuck—she’d been hiding from the coming mutts. 

     Another body stumbled into him. Peeta gasped in surprise, but Finnick had the sense to grab both him and Katniss as she came stumbling after him. He dragged them to the nearest tree and shoved them into its lattice of roots before crawling in behind them. 

     Damp wood scraped against his cheeks, his arms as he crawled. The three of them pushed forward until the roots became too dense for them to pass. The roots sprung closed behind them, but it still didn’t feel safe. Mutts encircled the tree, ripping at the enclosure with their clawed feet. Katniss let out a cry as one of them reached her leg, and Peeta stabbed at its claws with his knife until the shrieking beast retreated. 

     Finnick pressed in close to his Allies as another mutt dug towards him. “Where are the others?” he shouted at Katniss. 

     “I don’t know,” Katniss sputtered back. Finnick hadn’t heard any cannons, but he could have easily missed them. Breathless, disoriented, he could barely hear anything above his own heartbeat drumming in his ears, until he heard his name. 

     “Finnick!” Johanna’s voice echoed through the darkness. 

     “Johanna-” Finnick called back to her, only to meet half a dozen mutt eyes as as the creatures tore at him, drawn to the sound of his voice. Peeta jumped forward and slashed his knife at their faces until they fled. 

     “They can hear us,” Katniss whispered. “If they keep coming, they’re going to break through.” 

     Finnick swallowed Annie’s name in his throat. All he wanted was to hear her voice, to know she was still alive—but to cry out for her might kill her, if not by mutts, then surely by Snow. 

     “How are we supposed to get out of here?” Peeta hissed. 

     Katniss shook her head as she clutched her bow, “I can’t take them all down at once, they’re too fast.” 

     “We don’t have time to just sit here,” Finnick told her.

     Again, Katniss shook her head, “I don’t think we have a choice.” 

     The hour passed in agonized silence, save for the mutts flitting and shrieking overhead. The Allies couldn’t move—if any of them spoke in so much as a pitch above a whisper, the mutts would descend once more to inspect their caged prey. It felt like it had been far too long when at last the beasts disappeared back into the canopy with another rush of wind. Seconds ticked by as the jungle settled back into silence. Silence, then stirring. 

     “Finnick!” Johanna was shouting again. “Katniss, Peeta!” 

     Finnick scrambled out from beneath the tree as he called back to her, “Is everyone okay?!” His eyes raced across the darkened jungle for any sign of Annie, until at last, he caught the moonlight shining off her hair as she crawled out from under a distant trunk. 

     “Yeah,” Johanna nodded as Beetee too emerged from his own shelter. “You?” 

     Finnick glanced back at Katniss and Peeta as they pulled themselves to their feet. “Yeah,” he echoed back. “We have to move.” Now, they were a sector behind. If they were going to reach the lightning tree without getting killed, they were going to have to run. 

     “No, we need a new plan,” Katniss insisted. “We’re never going to make it.” 

     “We will if we move fast,” Finnick assured her. 

     “We don’t have the strength!” 

     “Yeah, we don’t have to strength to fight the Careers either,” Finnick glanced at the others, all as worn and shaken as he. 

     Katniss began to glare, “If we get caught in that wave-” 

     “That wave only hits once,” he snapped. “The longer we stand here arguing, the less of a chance we have to beat it. But I’d still rather risk the wave than wait around to get picked off by the Careers like a bunch of cowards.” 

     Katniss remained rooted where she stood. Peeta put a hand on her shoulder, 

     “Katniss, we need to-”

     But before he could finish, Katniss took off, racing into the thick of the trees. Finnick darted after her, determined to hunt her down and drag her back, until he realized that she was running for midnight. 

     The others followed behind, stumbling in the dark even as they ran. They wound through the forest of root trees, tripping all the while, but never stopping. Soon, the exposed roots gave way to damp earth and debris—they’d reached the next sector. They were making progress, they still had time, and Finnick couldn’t stem the hope that crept into his chest. He was going to get Annie to safety. He was going to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness for everything he’d said since the Games had begun. He was going to see Mags again, and the three of them could finally be a family that didn’t have to hide behind closed doors. They were almost free. 

     Then, the ground began to shudder. Finnick’s Allies looked to him in horror. They were barely halfway through the sector, the middle of the wave’s path. There was only one thing they could do. 

     “Climb!” Finnick grabbed Katniss by the waist and shoved her up the nearest tree, and Beetee clambered up the other side. Johanna pushed Peeta up a neighboring tree, but he struggled to reach the sparse limbs that trembled above him in the quake. Finnick didn’t have time to run and help. He reached for Annie, but she was already scaling the trunk behind Beetee. He climbed up behind Katniss, and only moments later he heard the wave roaring towards them. 

     “ _Hold on!_ ” Finnick hoisted himself up enough to pin Katniss between himself and the tree. Beetee was high above him, but he could hear Annie clambering on the other side of the trunk. He reached out and found her arm, and as the first spray of mist showered his face, he gripped her with all his strength. 

     The full force of the wave hit his back, knocking his head against the bark, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Water rushed into his mouth, his nose. Bits of debris stung his skin. He felt the water might crush him, when the tree began to bow. Finnick wrapped his legs around the tree’s trunk before the tide could flip him over. He could feel Katniss, squirming against, him, desperate for air, but he kept her locked against the tree, and he kept his fist locked on Annie’s arm.

     The crest of the wave passed, and Finnick gasped in a waterlogged breath as his face met the air once more. Katniss sputtered at his ear, alive, and Annie’s pulse still throbbed beneath his fingers. The water continued to rush past them, but the trees began to straighten themselves. 

     The sound of a crack split Finnick’s ear, followed by screaming. 

     “Peeta!” Katniss shrieked, writhing beneath him. Finnick could only see the shadow of the tree beside them as it splintered in half, as two bodies tumbled from the top of the trunk and disappeared beneath the rushing water. With both Katniss and Annie to hold onto, there was nothing he could do but watch. 

     Suddenly, he felt Annie’s arm jerking in his grasp. He could just make out the wide whites of her eyes as she shouted at him over the wave, “Let me go!” She’d let go of the trunk, only tethered to the tree by Finnick’s grip. 

     “No!” he shouted back in bewilderment. Already, he could feel the muscles in his arms tearing as he struggled to hold both her and Katniss. 

     “They’re going to drown!” Annie screamed. “I can help them!” 

     He knew she could help. He knew she was the strongest swimmer among them. He knew she’d survived such a flood before. But there were too many things that could go wrong, too many dangers that awaited her in the violent, murky waters, too many ways that he could lose her. They didn’t need Peeta to escape. They didn’t need Johanna. He needed her, and if he only held onto her for a few moments more, it would be too late for her help them. 

     “ _Finnick!_ ” His name was a guttural plea. He could hear the desperation in Annie’s voice, see the guilt already flashing in her eyes. Finnick had seen how her first Games had broken her, and he knew how the deaths of Johanna and Peeta would haunt her if she had to live on knowing she might have been able to save them. Now he had to decide how he would live with himself, as her scarring savior or her failed protector—the choice was in the grasp of his fingers. 

     Finnick looked her in the eye, a thousand words upon his lips, but there was no time. 

     He let her go.


	16. Chapter 16

[ _Tumblr Link_ ](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/101732225672/tempest-rising-chapter-16-17-penultimate)

     Spinning, twisting, tumbling—Annie’s body pinwheeled through the churning water. As soon as she’d let go of Finnick’s hand, the wave had sucked her down into its belly, and now it buffeted her with rocks and splinters of wood, forced itself down her throat and her nose. She couldn’t breathe. In the darkness, she couldn’t tell up from down. It was all too familiar, all too much like the wave that had swallowed her so many years ago. She felt herself beginning to panic as she flailed her arms and legs about her, clawing in any direction that might promise air. But the wave caught her by the limbs and spun her faster and faster through the blackness. Her consciousness began to fade, and her dizziness turned to numbness, tempting her to surrender. 

     She’d fought before, and what did it get her? She’d escaped the first flood with her life, but not with her sanity, not with her dignity, not with her family or her friends who abandoned her as soon as they discovered her madness. She’d lost her peace, the hope she’d harbored as a little girl that told her somehow, everything was going to be okay. If it wasn’t for Mags and Finnick, that hope would have lay dead inside her forever. She could feel it dying again—it had begun to die the day Snow had announced the Quarter Quell. Now, it had dwindled into a single flickering flame in her chest, and the waters threatened to rip her open and drown it forever. 

     No. She wouldn’t die. She wouldn’t leave Finnick this way. She wouldn’t give Snow that satisfaction. There were people who needed her, and she was done feeling helpless. Annie drew her limbs into herself until she managed to stop spinning. She picked a direction and swam. The water stopped racing—she was swimming down, beneath the pull of the current. Annie turned herself in the direction of the surface, and with all the strength she could muster, she forced herself upwards, until at last she met the air. The wave tried to drag her down again, but as she pulled her feet up until she was practically on her back, riding above the current’s pull. She tried to gather her bearings as she regained her breath, tried to locate Peeta and Johanna in the chaos. 

     “ _Annie!_ ” Johanna’s voice reached her over the roar of the current. Then, Annie spotted her just a stone’s throw away, clinging to the severed trunk of a tree as it bobbed and heaved through the wave. She reached out her hand for Annie to take. “Grab on!” 

     “Where’s Peeta?!” Annie screamed back, but Johanna only shook her head, eyes wide with panic. Her log began to catch on the trunks of the trees still rooted in the ground, and she began to slow. Soon, the crest of the wave would be past her, and she’d be safe. But Peeta was still at its mercy, and if Annie didn’t find him in time, they’d both be hurled against the cornucopia at the center of the arena, their bones shattered, their skulls cracked open. She had only moments more to find him. 

     “Peeta!” she cried, but no one answered her. Then, she saw the flash of a hand above the dark waters, then a boot, then another hand. Peeta was just head, still caught spinning in the rushing current. Annie swam for him, calling his name, but if he was alive, he couldn’t hear her. She had to get his head above the water, she had to keep them from crashing against the Cornucopia. 

     Annie dove beneath the surface of the wave and swam forward until she could feel Peeta reeling above her. She made a grab at him. His foot kicked her shoulder, nearly knocking her away. But she’d manage to catch a handful of his suit. She slipped her other arm around his torso and wrenched him towards the surface. Their heads broke above the water, and Annie struggled to keep them afloat. Peeta wasn’t fighting her—he was unconscious, or dead. Regardless, she braced his back to her chest and did her best to float them above the current.

     They were still rushing towards the shore—there wasn’t any way they’d be able to make a soft landing. Annie threw herself at the nearest tree, and she and Peeta slammed against the trunk. With one hand, she clung to it, her nails digging into the bark. She could feel the muscles in her arms tearing as she struggled to hold onto Peeta. But finally, the crest of the wave passed them by, and the water began to recede. The current weakened, and Annie was able to maneuver herself and Peeta down the trunk. Then, she felt her feet sink into the muddy earth. She gasped with relief, though she held onto Peeta’s slumped figure until the water sank past her waist, then her knees. By the time it receded to her ankles, it was practically stagnant. Annie let herself and Peeta drop the ground, and she laid him onto his back. 

     “Peeta? Peeta, wake up!” 

     His lips were turning blue. She could feel his heart palpitating in his chest, but she couldn’t feel any air leaving his nostrils. 

     “Annie!” Johanna came staggering towards them, her legs wobbling and week from the ordeal. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Peeta, “You found him?” 

     “He’s not breathing!” Annie told him as she began to pump his sternum. “Hold his head back.” 

     Johanna dropped to her knees and yanked Peeta’s head backwards, her hands shaking with uncertainty. Annie leaned forward and breathed into Peeta’s mouth. She pumped at his chest again, and was just about to give him another breath when he began coughing and sputtering. With a sigh of relief, Annie turned him over until he’d choked all the water from his lungs. 

     “Peeta, are you okay?” she asked him. “Can you breathe?” 

     “Wh-where’s Katniss?” Peeta spoke between gasps. 

     “She’s with Finnick, she’s safe,” Annie told him, though she couldn’t know for sure. “Are you okay?” 

     Blinking, he started to nod, “I think so-” Peeta looked up towards Annie, but he froze as something caught his eye. His face turned from blue to white as he stared at her. 

     “Peeta?” Annie looked down at herself, following his gaze. It was then that she saw the splinter of wood that protruded from her abdomen. Hot blood leaked from the wound, and suddenly the pain struck her all at once. Johanna shouted something, but the noise faded in Annie’s ears as she collapsed.

-

     Katniss leapt to the ground as soon as the water receded beneath them, screaming as she raced toward the center of the arena, “Peeta! Peeta!” 

     Finnick wanted to run with her. He wanted to find Annie, to make sure she was safe, to protect her from whatever was about to come. But they didn’t have time, not with the lightning tree charging up within the hour. Instead, he chased chased her down, caught her by the arm, “Katniss, wait-”

     But before the words were out of his mouth, Katniss reeled back and slammed her fist into his face. Finnick staggered backwards, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Still, his hand was locked around her arm, and it took everything in him not to hurl his other fist right back at her. 

     Katniss tried desperately to twist out of his grip, “Let me go, I’m done with you! This is your fault—we should have gone to the beach like I said!” 

     “ _My_  fault?” Finnick could feel himself shaking with anger, and blood sprayed from his lips as he shouted back, “We would have beat the wave if you hadn’t wasted our time with your fake hero complex! Peeta’s probably dead because of you, so congratulations, get over it!” 

_Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta are back in the Hunger Games. They’ve reluctantly agreed to help Plutarch Heavensbee in his mission to rescue Katniss Everdeen from the arena, but in the midst of the games, death is only ever a wrong step away._

     Katniss screamed in frustration as she thrashed away from him, but Finnick wouldn’t let her go. Peeta was dead, and Annie probably was too. The moment he’d let go of her hand, he watched her disappear beneath the black, violent water. In his mind he could see her spinning beneath the waves, screaming out for him even as her lungs burst with water, her limbs crushed and torn by the currents. 

     Katniss drew back to punch him again, but this time, Finnick caught her fist in the air. She stomped on his feet, kicked at his shins, his knees, his groin, until Finnick couldn’t take it anymore. With a growl of anger, he twisted her around, ready to put her in a chokehold, when Beetee finally caught up to them. 

     “Stop, stop!” he forced himself between them until he managed to pry them apart, though he held onto Katniss’ hand to keep her from running. “We don’t have time to argue.” 

     “No, I’m done with this plan!” Katniss insisted. “I’m going to find Peeta!” Tears shimmered in her eyes, no doubt due to Finnick’s words, but he was too angry to care. 

     Beetee turned to her, his brow drawn together in severity, “If we don’t take them out, then the Careers are going to hunt the others down. If they’re alive, they know to stay off the beach, and we can find them once the Careers are out of the way. But we have to move quickly if this is going to work.” 

     Katniss pulled away from him, “I can take care of the Careers myself!”

     Beetee’s gaze only softened, “You can’t, Katniss, not on your own.” 

     Finnick wasn’t going to wait for her answer, “If we’re still doing this, then let’s go.” He glanced at Beetee one last time—perhaps he’d figure out another way to escape. Perhaps they could abandon their plan and look for the others. But Beetee only nodded in confirmation, and reluctantly Katniss followed behind the two of them as they trudged in the direction of the lighting tree, away from  whatever was left of Peeta and Johanna and Annie. 


	17. Chapter 17

[Tumblr Link](http://my-odestiny.tumblr.com/post/102499372612/tempest-rising-17-17-final-chapter)

     “No no no no no!” Johanna caught Annie just before she hit the mud. 

     Peeta crouched beside her, his lip quivering in fear, “An-Annie?” 

     Annie couldn’t muster the breath to answer him. A thousand knives pierced her from the inside, until she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. 

     “It’s going to be okay,” Peeta promised her. “We’re going to get this out of you.” He reached for the shard of wood embedded in her abdomen. 

     “Don’t!” Johanna caught his wrist just before he began to pull. “You’ll kill her!” 

     “Then what do we do?” he looked at her, and Johanna ripped her sleeves  from her uniform. 

     “We’ve got to tie it off. Give me your knife.”

     “Johanna…” Annie could barely utter the word. It was all happening too fast. Static roared in her ears. She could feel her blood leaking from her body. She was dying, and Finnick wasn’t even there to hold her as she drew her last breath. 

     “Hold her down,” Johanna commanded, and Peeta gently braced Annie’s shoulders against the ground. Johanna sat on her legs. Then, she began to saw away at the severed branch. Annie let out a scream, her body writhing against the pain. She could feel the wood scraping against her bottom rib, and a fresh spurt of blood gushed from the edges of the wound. 

     Peeta bent down by her ear as he held her, his voice trembling as he whispered, “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay…” But she could hardly hear him over her own screams. 

     Finally, Johanna managed to cut the shard down to a bloody nub. She wrapped her sleeves around Annie’s torso, bound them tightly about the wound, but blood still seeped from the makeshift bandage. Peeta offered up his sleeves, and they finally managed to staunch the flow of blood. Annie’s whole body throbbed with the pulsing of her heart. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she couldn’t wipe them away. Her breath came in choked quivers, and Johanna slapped at her cheeks, 

     “Hey, hey! You’re not dying on me. We’re going to the lightning tree, come on.” 

     Peeta shook his head, “We’re never going to make it. We’ll get caught up in the eleventh sector, we’re not fast enough.” 

     “But we’re too close to the beach,” Johanna pointed in the direction of the Cornucopia, where glimpses of the sea shimmered between the trees. “We’re going to fry if we don’t get out of here, we’ve got to move. Carry her.” Johanna grasped Annie underneath her arms and began to lift her up. 

     Annie let out a cry as the piece of wood shifted inside her, ripped at her flesh. But Johanna didn’t flinch as she loaded her onto Peeta’s back. He looped his arms around her legs, and Annie managed to wrap her arms around his neck. Peeta started forward as gingerly as he could, but every step sent another stab of pain through her body. It was too much to bear—Annie’s eyes began to flutter closed as a dizzy numbness overcame her. 

     Johanna squeezed her shoulder, “No, stay awake.” She started forward, ready to lead them through the darkness, though not before she told Peeta, “Don’t let her pass out.” 

     “Right,” he murmured hesitantly. But his voice perked up when he spoke to Annie, “Thank you for saving my life, Annie. How did you do it?” 

     Annie drew in a breath to speak, but she couldn’t pull the right words together in her cloudy mind, couldn’t force them from their lungs without feeling the wood scraping against her rib. 

     “Is it the same thing you did for Finnick?” Peeta pressed her. 

     She managed to nod against his neck. It felt like so long since Finnick had hit the force field at the start of the Games, she’d almost forgotten about it. She’d gone into this Quell determined to do everything she could to keep him alive, and now he had a chance to escape—to escape the Arena, to escape Snow’s threats, to escape the Capitol’s lusty whims. Annie eyes closed once more as she pictured him, smiling and unburdened. Finnick was going to be free, end perhaps that was worth the cost of her life. 

-

     Finnick felt its veiny roots beneath his feet long before he glimpsed the lightning tree through the darkened jungle, but it was only when he approached it that he could appreciate its sheer size. The thick trunk soared above the canopy, as if reaching up to receive the lightning directly from the sky, and Finnick couldn’t help but doubt whether or not they could really harness its power. Beetee, however, seemed much more sure of himself as he began to unspool his wire. 

     “We need to wrap the trunk at least a dozen times. Will you two help me?” 

     Finnick knotted the wire to one branch, and Katniss wound the coil around the trunk while Beetee checked behind her for any catches or slack. The minutes crawled by, and they wrapped the tree more than two dozen times before Beetee was finally satisfied. 

     “Alright,” he held the spool out to Finnick. “Take this to the beach, then come straight back.” 

     “I’ll go too,” Katniss quickly offered, but Beetee shook his head, 

     “I need someone here to protect me.” 

     “Then I’ll do it, and Finnick can stay here,” she held the hand out for the spool, but he only looked at her over the rim of his glasses. 

     “We’ll look for Peeta as soon as we get rid of the Careers,” he promised, and Katniss dropped her arm in defeat. 

     Beetee turned his attention to Finnick as he handed him the coil, “Bury it, but make sure it’s still in contact with the damp sand.” 

     “And-” Katniss added haltingly. She looked at Finnick, worry shimmering in her eyes. “If you find them, you’ll…?”

     Finnick nodded to her, “I’ll bring them back.” He was determined to bring them back no matter what. As soon as he buried the coil at the beach, he was going to double back through the arena to find Peeta and Johanna and Annie. He still wasn’t sure what Beetee’s escape plan was, or how much time they’d actually have to run before the Capitol came after them, but he wasn’t leaving without Annie. 

     The coil hissed as it unspooled at his hand, and as Finnick shuffled towards the center of the arena, he kept a wary eye out for any sign of Annie and the others. With every snapping twig and rustling leaf, he prayed she’d come bursting through the darkness, into his arms. He didn’t care about the cameras anymore—he needed to hold her, to feel her pulse, to hear her breathing. He needed to know she was alive. 

     Finnick blinked out of his thoughts when he felt the wire go slack, and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Brutus’ spear flying at his face. The blade whizzed through his hair as he ducked, just barely missing his scalp. He struggled to regain his footing, but Brutus didn’t give him the chance. The Career charged at him with Enobaria close behind.

     It was only then that Finnick realized he didn’t have his trident—he must have let it go when he’d taken Annie’s hand in the tidal wave, and now he only had a broken coil to defend himself with. He threw his hands up in desperation, “Stop, stop! You don’t have to do this!”

     The Careers slowed, but Enobaria didn’t stop until she had her sword pressed against his neck. “It’s a little late for making a new alliance,” she smirked at him, her razored teeth glinting in the dark. 

     Finnick’s throat raked against the blade as he swallowed, and he tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke, “Listen to me, I have a plan.” He couldn’t tell them the truth, not yet, but if he could just get them to go along with him for a few minutes, none of them had to die. “If we just-” 

     But Enobaria stopped him with a raised eyebrow, “Where’s Annie?” 

     Finnick could only stare at her, breathless. 

     Brutus’ eyes began to follow the wire trail that Finnick had left behind himself. “They’re this way!” he shouted to Enobaria, and in the moment she turned her head to look at him, Finnick saw his chance. He grabbed Enobaria’s wrist and kneed her in the gut before she could react. Her grip loosened on her sword as she doubled over, and he wrenched it from her hand. Brutus ran, following the wire towards the lightning tree. If he managed to kill Katniss or Beetee before Finnick could stop him, there’d be no escaping the arena. Finnick left Enobaria coiled on the ground and raced after him, shouting for him to stop. But his heeds were cut short by the sound of a cannon blast.

     Finnick’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Katniss!” he called through the darkness, but no one answered him. “Katniss!” He burst into the lightning tree’s clearing, stumbling over its roots, then, over Brutus’ prone body. His eyes were wide and blank, and the shaft of an arrow marked his heart. 

     “Katniss?” Finnick’s eyes darted about the clearing in search of her. Just behind the tree, he could see Beetee lying facedown, his body motionless. Finnick readied his sword, not knowing what to expect next—had Katniss panicked? Did she attack Beetee? Was she going to come after him too? He saw a pair of eyes watching him from the jungle underbrush, and with a sigh of relief, he started towards her, “Katniss, are you okay-”

     “Don’t come any closer!” Katniss stood upright, her arrow aimed at him. Finnick could see it trembling beneath her fingers as she glared at him, her last shreds of reason giving way to animalistic fear. Finnick knew the look well—it was the look in every Tribute’s eyes just before their last kill, just before they won their Games. 

     Finnick dropped his sword, put his hands in the air, “Take it easy.” 

     “What were you doing with him?” Katniss demanded, motioning to the body at Finnick’s feet. 

     “I wasn’t with him,” he explained as calmly as he could. “I was-”

     A crack of thunder burst overhead, and Katniss nearly lost hold of her arrow as she jumped. Clouds began to swirl above the tree. Midnight was only moments away. 

     “We need to get out of here,” Finnick told her. Beetee’s plan was going to fail, and all Finnick knew to do now was keep Katniss alive. “We can look for Peeta, but we need to go.”

     “You want me to find him so you can kill him?” Katniss hissed, her teeth bared in anger. 

     Finnick’s own hands were shaking, his life gathered at the tip of Katniss’ arrow. But with Snow still watching, there was only one thing left he could think to say to her: “Katniss, remember who the real enemy is.” 

     Her eyes widened at the echo of Haymitch’s words. The sky boiled above them, and a charge of lightning began to gather in the clouds. Finnick offered one of his surrendered hands to Katniss,

     “We need to go, now!” 

     But Katniss wasn’t listening. She picked up an end of wire and twisted it around her arrowhead. Finnick’s cries were drowned in the deafening thunder as he ran for her. But it was too late. Lightning struck the tree at the same moment Katniss loosed her arrow. The blast sent them both flying, and the fall forced the air from Finnick’s lungs. Pain split his skull, and for a moment he was stunned, unable to do anything but watch as lightning raced up the wire, followed Katniss’ arrow into the dome of the arena. Sparks of fire showered towards them, followed by a shower of debris that pelted and burned his skin. Then, the dome itself began to fall. A matt of welded, warped beams dropped from the sky, plummeting towards Finnick, and he could only squeeze his eyes shut as he waited for them to crush him. 

-

     Suddenly, everything went black. Was she dead? No, Annie could still feel the pain in her side. She could still feel the most recent cannon blast ringing in her ears. She could still feel Peeta gasp beneath her as he stumbled to a stop. 

     “What’s going on?” he breathed. “Is this the finale?” 

     “No…” Johanna reached out and found Annie’s arm in the darkness. “This is it.” 

     “What do you mean?” Peeta asked, but Johanna ignored his question. 

     “Put Annie down. You need to get to the lightning tree and bring back help.” She pulled Annie from his back as she spoke, and the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through Annie’s body. She let out a cry, and Johanna was more careful as she lowered her to the ground. 

     Peeta hesitated, “If the plan worked and the Careers are dead, what happens now?” 

     Johanna scoffed at him, “You still don’t get it? This isn’t the Games anymore. The arena’s shut down—we’ve got to get the hell out of here!” 

     “Are you serious?” Peeta asked, his voice hushed in astonishment. 

     “Yes!” Johanna gave him a shove. “Now go, hurry! Bring someone back to carry her!” 

     “I will,” Peeta promised. He started into the pitch black jungle, and after several moments the noise of his stumbling and groping began to fade. 

     Johanna crouched by Annie’s side, shaking her shoulder, “Hey, you still awake?” 

     “Yeah.” Annie took a deep, shaky breath before she added, “You should go with him.” 

     “Shut up,” she retorted, though her voice was more gentle than usual.

     Annie gripped her arm, “If you don’t go now…” She couldn’t finish the thought. Even in the darkness, dizziness overwhelmed her, and she felt herself fading again. 

     “Annie?” Johanna shook her shoulder again. “Annie, come on, stay with me. We’re almost out of here.” 

     But she was so dizzy, so tired, so hurt…

     “Annie!” Johanna started to pull at her hair, when a faint droning sound caused her to freeze. The low, steady hum grew nearer as they listened. Annie remembered the sound well—the sound of a Capitol hovercraft coming to collect their bodies. 

     Words gushed from Annie’s lips with a burst of adrenaline, “Johanna, get out of here!” 

     “What, am I supposed to just leave you here?” Johanna barked, but Annie could hear the tremor in her voice.

     Tears sprung to her own eyes—they’d been caught, and she could only hope she would die before Snow was able to exact his wrath on her. 

     “You said you can’t save everyone,” she choked. “Please run!” 

     A spotlight bore down on them, and the wind whipped at their hair as the hovercraft forced its way through the canopy. Its claw descended towards them, silhouetted against the blinding light. Annie pushed Johanna away with all the strength she had left, but Johanna clung to her, unwilling to leave even as the steel jaws closed around them, lifted them into the air. She readied the knife she’d taken from Peeta, their last weapon.

     “Stay down,” she hissed in Annie’s ear, and as soon as they rose into the body of the hovercraft, she slashed wildly at the first body she saw. 

     “Woah, woah, woah!” Haymitch Abernathy staggered backwards, barely dodging the blade. “It’s us!” he shouted, and Johanna dropped the knife, stunned. Plutarch Heavensbee rushed forward to catch Annie as the claw released her. He slid her across the cold metal floor where Haymitch waited with an IV. He thrust the needle into her arm and slipped an oxygen mask over her head. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. We’ve got you.” 

     Annie’s head rolled on the bare floor as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Katniss and Beetee lay beside her, fitted with their own IVs and masks, singed and unconscious. Haymitch and Plutarch were pressing gauze over her makeshift bandages while Johanna tried to tell them what to do. It was only in the light of the cabin that Annie could see how much of her own blood caked her body, how much of it was still oozing around the splintered shard of of wood in her side. 

     She flinched as Plutarch shined a flashlight into her eyes. “Annie, can you hear me?” he asked her, his voice loud and slow. “Can you stay with me for just a little longer? Tell me where you are, Annie.” 

     But as she felt herself fading, there was only one clear thought that swam through her mind, 

     “ _Where’s Finnick?_ ” 

-

     The faint hum of a hovercraft reached Finnick’s ears as he woke. His head throbbed, and he let out a groan before he finally opened his eyes. Fuzzy, white shapes lingered before him, and as he blinked, they morphed into rows of Peacekeepers, closing him in on every side. 

     “No…” Finnick could only breathe the word before one of the Peacekeepers stepped forward. Without a word, he struck Finnick with the butt of his gun, and suddenly, everything went black.


End file.
